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>• •■ "T

THE FROBISHERS

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

MOHALAH

In the Roar of the Sea

The Queen of Love

Cheap Jack Zita

Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven

Arminell

Jacquetta

Urith

Kitty Alone

Margery of Quether

No^Mi

The Broom-Squire

Dartmoor Idylls

GuAVAS THE Tinner

The Pennycombquicks

Bladys

DOMITIA

Pabo, the Priest
Winefred

THE FROBISHERS

A STORY OF THE
STAFFORDSHIRE POTTERIES

S. BARING-GOULD

QUID OONTIAXISTIS PBONTBMf QUIA TKAOADIAM

DIXI PUTORAM MANCf DBU8 SUM : COMMUTAVUtO

BANDBM HANC, SI VOLTtS ; PAOAM BX TKAGADIA

COMiBUIA UT SIT.

PLAUT. AMPaiTRYOt PROL.

METHUEN & CO.

36 ESSEX STREET W.C.

LONDON

1901

H-061

CONTENTS

CHAP.

PAGE

1. A BUTTBRFLY OUT OF PLACB .

•

II. PBNDABURY

•

III. AN ORANOB BNVBLOPB .

•

IV. WITH THB DBSSBRT

V. FACING THB WORST

•

VI. IN THB BBAUDBSSART ARMS

VII. JULIB . . . .

•

VIII. A CHANGE OF AIR

1 4

IX. POLLY MYATT

X. LBAD

1 1

XI. MY PAL . . . ,

9 i

102

XIL BUTTBR . . . .

112

XIII. COMMON AND UNCLEAN

•

120

XIV. AN OBSTINATE WOMAN .

•

■

129

XV. THB BLUB LINE .

•

140

XVI. SUPPRESSED RHEUMATISM

•

151

XVn. FOOTINGS

•

. 158

CVIII. MR. MANGIN

•

171

XIX. SOCIAL EVENINGS

•

. 178

XX. A HAMPER OF HOLLY .

•

. 187

▼ii

Vlll

CONTENTS

CHAP.

XXI. A CHRISTMAS DINNER
XXII. THKATRE TICKETS

XXIII. LAVENDER LODGE

XXIV. TOM TREDDLEHOYLE
XXV. IN THE OFFICE

XXVI. A SECOND FAVOUR

XXVII. NO GARDEN

XXVIII. POTTERS' ROT .

XXIX. "HE WENT AWAY SORROWFUL, HAVING
POSSESSIONS "

XXX. BUT RETURNED

XXXI. ** COME OVER AND HELP US ! "

XXXn. TWO AIMS

GREAT

PAGE

195
206

213

222

232

241

253
261

271
281
294

304

THE FROBISHERS

CHAPTER I

A BUTTERFLY OUT OF PLACE

" T THOUGHT as much 1 " said Joan.

A She was standing in a road — a byway — through
an oak coppice, in her riding habit beside her horse,
and had ungirthed him and removed the saddle.

"Poor old boy, I am sorry for you. You must
have suffered, and yet you went bravely along, and
splendidly over the fence."

Ruby turned his head at his mistress's voice,
snuffed his approval of her sympathy, and stood
unmoving, save that the skin twitched about an ugly
raw on the shoulder.

" It is that tree again," said Joan. " Some saddlers
seem never to grasp the law by which a tree is made
to fit. I have sent this saddle twice to Oxley, and he
has vowed, by all things blue, on each occasion, that
he has rectified the defect. Never, old boy, shall you
have this side-saddle on your back again."

Once more the patient horse turned his head.

2 THE FROBISHERS

looked at his mistress and snuffed, as though accept-
ing the assurance in full confidence. He knew Joan,
knew that she pitied him, knew that he would be
cared for.

"I beg your pardon— are you in difficulties? and
can I be of any assistance?" asked a young man,
breaking through the coppice of sere russet leaves,
and descending on his hunter to the road that was cut
some two feet below the surface of the shrub and tree
clothed hillside. He was not in pink, but in a dark
serviceable coat, and wore white corduroy breeches,
a stiff velvet hunting cap, and top-boots, and was
spurred,

" I am at a loss what to do," answered the girl.
" I have acted most inconsiderately. I let my sister
Sil^ll ride on, and take the groom with her. I lagged
because I had a suspicion that something was going
wrong with Ruby. Of course I ought to have de-
tained the groom, but my sister was eager, and I did
not like to spoil her sport. Next piece of want of
consideration that I was guilty of was to dismount
here in the wood, to lift the saddle and see if the dear
old fellow were rubbed. Look ! how badly he has
been served. I cannot possibly replace the saddle
and remount him. So I shall have to walk all the
way to Pendabury House in a riding skirt — and only
a lady knows bow laborious that is."

"To Pendabury I"

" Yes, that is our home."

A BUTTERFLY OUT OF PLACE 3

Joan now looked for the first time with any interest
at the gentleman with whom she had been conversing,
and at once perceived that he was not one of the
usual party that attended a meet and followed the
hunt, but was an entire Strang^.

" I am Miss Frobisher," she said.

" I must introduce myself," he at once spoke ; " my
name is Beaudessart"

" Beaudessart I "

It was now her turn to express surprise.

" Then," said she, " I have a sort of notion that
some kind of relationship exists between us ! "

" For my sins, none," answered the young man ; " in
place of relation there has been estrangement. My
grandfather married a Mrs. Frobisher, a widow, and
your father was her son by a former husband. The
families have been in contact, brought so by this
marriage, but it has produced friction. However,
let us not consider that ; let the fact of there having
been some connection embolden me to ask your
permission to transfer your side-saddle to my mare,
and to lead your galled Ruby to his stable."

" You are very good."

" There is not a man in the hunt who would not
make the same offer."

" I cheerfully admit that our South Staffordshire
hunters are ever courteous and ready to assist a
damsel in difficulties. Is not that the quality of
chivalry ? "

4 THE FROBISHERS

" The same applies to every gentleman in England/'
said Mr. Beaudessart. " Wherever he sees need, per-
plexity, distress, thither he flies with eager heart to
assist."

He had already dismounted, and without another
word proceeded to remove his own saddle, and to
adjust that of the lady to the back of his mare.

" One moment," said Joan Frobisher. " I ought to
forewarn you that you are running a risk — the tree
of my saddle will fit the back of no living horse."

"It will do no harm so long as my Sally is not
galloped, Miss Frobisher. I shall have to lay on you
the injunction not to fly away. Besides, I am a
stranger in this part of the country. It was that
which threw me out, and brought me through the
coppice. I do not know my way to Pendabury, and
shall need your guidance."

He placed his hands in position to receive Joan's
foot, and with a spring she was in the saddle. Then
he looked up at her.

She was a tall, well-built gfirl. In her dark
green hunting habit, the collar turned up with
scarlet, and brightened with the South Staffordshire
hunt buttons, her graceful form was shown to good
effect

She had well-moulded features, the jaw had a bold
sweep, and the chin was firmly marked. The eyes
were large, lustrous, and soft. If the modelling of
the lower portion of her face conveyed a suspicion of

A BUTTERFLY OUT OF PLACE 5

hardness, this was at once dispelled by the soft light
of the kindly eyes.

Mr. Beaudessart now fitted his own saddle on the
back of Ruby so as not to incommode the galled
beast.

" I was in a difficulty," said Joan, as they began to
move forward down the roadway. "I might have
been run in by the agents of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and had to appear
at the next Petty Sessions — before papa — think of
that, and be fined sixpence, and costs, eight-and-nine ;
total, nine-and-threepence. It would have made a
hole in my pocket-money."

"Do the costs stand in that proportion to the
fine? I really know nothing of English magistrates
and their courts."

"Oh, the magistrates have nothing to do with
costs. These are inexplicable to the uninitiated.
The Greek mysteries are nothing to them."

Then they proceeded a little way without talking,
as the road became steep.

On reaching ground less precipitous, Joan asked —

" You say that you are a stranger in thes^ parts ? "

" Yes— entirely."

"No, not entirely. Your name is familiar to all.
Why, our church is full of Beaudessart monuments,
and the county history is prodigal in the matter of
pedigree of Beaudessart For the matter of that, we
have any number of pictures of them at Pendabury."

6 THE FROBISHERS

"Are you great in pedigree?" asked the young
man with a smile.

" Of a horse. I know nothing of my own, and care
little. By the way, it is through a Beaudessart that
we came by our home; and" — laughing — "we do
not intend to surrender it without a siege. We have
a portrait in the dining-room of the last of the
Beaudessart squires of Pendabury, a choleric, resolute
man, to judge by his counterfeit presentment"

The young man looked up at Joan with a flicker in
his eyes and a twinkle of a smile on his lips.

Joan perceived it, and was rendered nervous, lest
she might have said something in bad taste, something
that had touched him and made him wince, and he
had disguised the pain with a smile. Did he really
think that she suspected him of making a claim to
the Pendabury estate? She scrutinised his face to
read his mind, but the smile ambiguously twitching
the comers of the mouth had passed away, and he
strode forwards serene in countenance, with an elastic
tread and a toss of the head, as though he had put
from him whatever thought had passed through his
mind at the provocation of her words. The young
man was upright in carriage, broad in back, his head
covered with light hair that rippled over his forehead
and curled forth behind from under his velvet cap.
Surely when a child he must have had natural ringlets
of gold. His face was fresh, open, honest, and careless
in expression. His eyes were dark grey. He looked

A BUTTERFLY OUT OF PLACE 7

like a man of good feeling, and one who was well
bred.

''Mr. Beaudessart/' said Joan, ''you must have
formed a very bad opinion of my intelligence, coming
on me as you did, in the depth of a wood and far
from assistance. I had put myself into a position of
great awkwardness ; I got off Ruby to examine his
shoulder without a thought that, granted he were
sound, I could not girth him up tight enough to
remount, and that if I found him badly rubbed I
should have to walk home. What can you think
of me ? "

" I think only of the tenderness of your heart, that
put all considerations for self on one side, in solicitude
for your horse."

"Thank you. I am very fond of Ruby. Never-
theless, I blame myself for lack of foresight." Then,
changing her tone as she changed the subject, she
asked, " Have you been long in our neighbourhood ? "

" We took the cottage at Rosewood— do you chance
to know it ? "

Joan made a movement of assent.

" We took it at Lady Day last on a term of years.
But we, that is my mother and I, spent all the summer
in Switzerland, after we had settled our few sticks
of furniture in the house. The garden had been
neglected and not stocked, so that it was too late in
the year when we came into possession to do very
much with it. My mother has great ambition to

8 . THE FROBISHERS

cultivate a garden. We are not notable gardeners
in Canada — she is a Canadian, and I was bom there.
It will be a new experience here, and one to give her
great pleasure. She has read about English ladies
and the little paradises they create, in which they
pass their innocent hours, and she hopes to acquire
the same tastes, and reap the same joys, and to spend
her declining years in flowery bliss. She is a dear
mother to me," he added, in a tone full of tenderness,
and Joan liked him for the words.

Thus conversing, they reached the outskirts of the
wood, and were on the highway between hedges in
pleasant champaign country.

" I have some excuse for being ignorant of the lie
of the land," said Mr. Beaudessart. ** I was bom, as
I told you, in Canada. My father lived and died
there."

" And your mother will be happy in England ? "

" Oh, she knows that I have to be here ; it was my
father's urgent request He hungered after the old
fatherland."

" Have you sisters ? "

" I have a sister, who is now with my mother, but
she is with her only now and then. She has taken
her own line, and has become a nurse. I suppose
Rosewood is some miles from here — how many I
have not the faintest notion."

" If you hunt with us, you will don the pink?"

" I do not know about that. It costs about twenty

A BUTTERFLY OUT OF PLACE 9

pounds to blaze out a full-blown poppy, and the suit
will last but a season. It is rather like advertising
oneself as a man of large fortune, and I am not that.
I can live, but cannot be lavish."

So they talked, falling into half confidences ; and
presently many evidences appeared of approach to
a gentleman's seat of some importance. The trees
stood in clumps. Hedges no longer divided the
fields; they were parted by wire fences. Ploughed
land gave way to pasturage. Then were heard the
sounds of rooks cawing, and a church spire pierced
the rounded banks of trees, that had not all lost their
foliage, though that foliage was turned to copper.

And presently they came to the gates.

At that moment up trotted Joan's sister Sibyll, with
the groom following her. The younger Miss Frobisher
was but eighteen ; she was a very pretty and graceful
girl, with a high colour and dancing eyes. She was
now in great spirits, and, riding up to her sister,
exclaimed —

" Oh, Joan 1 give me joy ! I am the happiest girl
on earth. On this, the first meet of the season, I was
in at the death. Look I I have had my cheeks
painted ; and see ! I have the brush, and am promised
the mask when it is mounted."

Then she noticed the gentleman leading Ruby, and
raised her eyebrows.

" What ails your horse ? " she inquired.

" Sibylla— this is Mr. Beaudessart Sir — my sister.

10 THE FROBISHERS

Mr. Beaudessart has been so very kind. My poor
Ruby is frightfully rawed ; I could not ride him
home, so this gentleman has most generously lent me
his mount and has led my horse." Then to the
young man : ** Mr. Beaudessart, you must come into
PendabuVy and have a cup of tea or a glass of wine.
You have eight or nine miles to cover before reaching
home, and I have spoiled your day's hunting. More-
over, you positively must see the original Beaudessart
Stammburg^ as the Germans would term it."

He bowed, and said in reply —

" Are you sure that your father would desire it ? "

" Quite so. How could he do other ? "

Still he hesitated. Joan saw that he was desirous
of accepting her invitation, but was unwilling to
intrude.

" No ! " she said, " I will not take a refusal. A
lady's invitation carries all the force of a command.
If it be not accepted, she is mortally affronted."

"In that case I have no alternative."

They passed through the great gates into the
grounds that unfolded before them as they proceeded,
sweeping lawns, park-like, with the house, a Queen
Anne mansion, square and stately, standing back
against a well-wooded hill, the sun flashing golden in
the long windows that looked to the west.

" It is a beautiful spot," said the young man in a
grave tone, and a change came over his face.

" Oh, Joan ! " exclaimed Sibyll, riding beside her

A BUTTERFLY OUT OF PLACE ii

sister, ''such fun ! I had never been in at the death
before. And fancy! when puss was in extremis,
fallen on and torn to pieces by the hounds — will you
believe me? there was a butterfly flickering above
the scene of blood and death-agony unconcernedly.
Conceive 1 a butterfly at this period of the year ; so
out of season ! "

" So out of place," said Joan.

^tr-'

CHAPTER II

PENDABURY

STEPS led to the front door, that was under a
portico composed of Ionic pillars of Bath stone,
that contrasted, as did the white coigns, with the red
sandstone of which the house was built, one of the
warmest and best of building materials. The long
windows had casements painted creamy white, and the
roof of the house was concealed by a balustrade of
white stone.

At the steps the ladies dismounted, and the groom
and a boy who had run from the stables took the
horses.

Then the two girls, gathering up their habits,
mounted to the door, and Joan, as she ascended,
turned with a slight bow and a smile of encour-
agement to the young man, feeling at the same time
not a little puzzled at the hesitation, even reluctance,
that he manifested in accompanying her within.

The butler opened the glass doors, and all then
entered the lofty hall, out of which the staircase
ascended to the upper apartments. It was a fine hall,

1£

PENDABURY 13

rich with plaster work, and hung with full-length
portraits.

" Matthews," said Miss Frobisher, " will you kindly
inform your master that a gentleman is here — Mr.
Beaudessart? Yet stay, we will drink tea in the
dining-room. Please to put cold meat and wine on
the sideboard."

" Yes, miss."

The man withdrew with a bow.

" Joan," said Sibyll, " I am going to rid myself of
my boots and shed my habit."

" Have your tea first," urged the elder. " There is
no occasion for such a hurry."

" Yes there is," answered the young girl. "It is
all very well for you to sit down at once to a meal —
you have been muddling along at a snail's pace on
Ruby with a sore shoulder, but I have been in the
swim all day, and was at the finish. I say, Joan,
am I really much painted ? It is rather horrible, is
it not? — ^but such fun to have Reynard's blood on
one's cheek. Only I suspect the painting was done
in the slightest possible manner. I must send for
the keeper to dress the brush for me. What is put
on — ^borax ? He will know. I will ring for Matthews
to send after him."

"You really must postpone changing for ten
minutes. Papa will be so interested to hear of your
adventures and success."

" Oh, I shall run to him in the library on my way,

14 THE FROBISHERS

and show him the badges of war and trophies of
victory. I must go— I shall be down again in a trice.
I have torn my skirt in a thorn bush»and am plastered
with mud. Tally-ho I ta-ra-ra I "

Then she departed, twittering, " We will all go
a-hunting to-day."

Joan turned to the young man with a pleasant
smile, and said —

" My sister is somewhat wilful. You must excuse
her — she is the spoilt child of the house. My father
dotes on her, and every man, woman, and child in the
place is her humble servant. Now look about you.
Here all the faces and figures that adorn the walls
are Beaudessarts, from that grim-visaged gentleman
in trunk hose and spindle legs, which is the earliest
portrait we have. Is there, by the way, anything you
would like ? A whisky and soda ? Perhaps a wash
above all things? I will call the footman. I shall
be making tea, and you can come to me in the dining-
room. Papa will be there. The servant, Joseph, will
be your guide."

Joan expected her father to appear at once, but he
did not arrive. Matthews had not found him in the
study, he had gone forth into the grounds.

Sibylla, as well, was disappointed ; she had bounded
into the library to display her spoils.

Joan put tea in the silver pot over the lamp, and
saw that the sideboard was well supplied with cold
beef and pheasant, and that spirits and wine were set

PENDABURY 15

out ; then she went to a glass and hastily arranged
her hair.

Mr. Beaudessart was shown in by Joseph.

" Now," said the girl, " whilst the tea is brewing I
am entirely at your service to show you the pictures.
That over the mantelpiece is my father, and yonder
is my mother, who was taken from us sixteen years
ago. She was a beautiful woman when young, and
you can see that in middle age the traces were not
gone. Yonder is the portrait I told you of, Squire
Hector Beaudessart, the last of the family in Penda-
bury. After his death the property fell to papa,
though how it came about I cannot inform you. I
believe it was a complicated affair."

The young man walked up to the picture and
stood before it, gazing intently on the canvas. The
evening sun shone into the room, not, happily, on the
painting itself, but on a side wall, and the reflected
light illumined the picture sufficiently for him to be
able to see it distinctly.

" It is very well painted, I believe. Do you not
consider it so?" asked Joan. "The artist was
Knight, the academician."

** It is admirable. It portrays not only the outward
features, as nose and eyes, but the inner character,
resolution and remorselessness."

** I have heard that he was considered a determined
old gentleman," said the girl.

'' Pertinacious in pursuing his own course, impatient

i6 THE FROBISHERS

of contradiction, implacable in his resentments, and
then — proud."

"If we have any good in us we are proud," said
Joan. " Pride is a necessary factor in a man up to
a certain point It implies strength, or furnishes it.
But vanity is mere weakness."

" Yes," answered the young man, " we must all
have self-respect, but at the same time respect others.
That I do not think my grandfather ever did if they
dared to differ from him."

" Your grandfather ! "

A cough behind them, as they stood contemplating
the picture.

Joan knew it, whisked about, and saw her father
entering the room with his stick in his hand.

" Oh, papa 1 I am so glad that you have arrived.
Here is Mr. Beaudessart from Canada, so interested
in the family portraits."

" Mr. Beaudessart," said Mr. Frobisher stiffly ; " pray
what Mr. Beaudessart ? "

" I must apologise, sir, for my intrusion," said the
young man, feeling at once a sense of chill from
the presence of the squire. " I have ventured
to ask Miss Frobisher to permit me to see the
pictures."

" Papa ! " said Joan, also aware of the coldness of
her father's manner, " I insisted on Mr. Beaudessart
coming in, he has been so kind. Ruby was frightfully
rubbed, and he lent me his mare. Had he not done so

PENDABURY 17

I should have had to walk home from Littlefold
Wood."

" What Mr. Beaudessart may this gentleman be ? "
asked the squire, with a freezing manner. He was
an old, spare man, with shrivelled legs, about which
his trousers hung loosely, with a long, knife-like face,
his hair very grey-and curled about the temples. His
nose was aquiline, his eyebrows thick and white, and
his eyes bright and hard.

He wore a grey suit that, however, did not become
him. He was one of those men with face and figure
belonging to the first half of the nineteenth century,
who look ill fitted in modem costume, one whom
nothing would become save the high - collared coat,
and the short waistcoat and abundant necktie of the
reign of William iv. The studied absence of gracious-
ness of manner assumed by Mr. Frobisher affected both
the young people with a feeling of discomfort.

"My father was Walter," said the stranger; "he
was son to that old gentleman yonder. My name
is the same as that of my grandfather — Hector
Beaudessart."

Joan was aware that something grated on and
angered her father.

" My dear papa," she said, " you have no idea what
a generous assistance Mr. Beaudessart has rendered
me — at the sacrifice of his day's sport and pleasure.
How I could have got home without his courteous
and ready help I cannot tell. And having seen me

i8 THE FROBISHERS

to the Pendabury gates, he proposed returning home.
But I would not hear of it ; I insisted on his coming
in and having some refreshment. Sibyll followed
the hounds to the grim death, but I was brought to
a full stop in the wood by the condition of Ruby."

" Sir," said Mr. Frobisher, looking straight at Mr.
Beaudessart and ignoring his daughter, '' I take it as
a most surprising piece of assurance, your thrusting
yourself into this house."

The young man coloured up, and replied with
dignity —

" I grieve to my heart that you should so regard it ;
I am aware that there was some ill-feeling existing
between yourself and my father, but I can assure you
I do not share it, and I trusted that you, on your
part, would have laid aside any sentiment that was
bitter when the earth closed over his head. Allow
me to relieve you of my presence."

" Sir," said Mr. Frobisher, bridling up and point-
ing at him with his stick, " I repeat, and emphasise
my opinion, I consider it a gross, an unwarrantable
piece of effrontery your intrusion here, taking advan-
tage of my daughter's ignorance of the world, and
of circumstances that must for ever estrange our
families. Your deceased father's conduct" —

"Excuse me, sir. I may be to blame for my
thoughtlessness, or for my belief that human nature
was gentler than I find it, but I can hear nothing
against my father. He behaved always as an honour-

PENDABURY 19

able man. What charge can you or anyone lay
against him ? "

" That of having formed and obstinately maintained
opinions contrary to those held by his father, the
author of his being and the squire of the parish ! "
He flourished his stick and pointed to the picture of
the old Squire Hector. " He might at least have kept
his views to himself. I maintain that, by his conduct,
he lost the blessing which is pronounced upon dutiful
sons."

" A man is free to form his own opinions," said the
young Hector, " and it would be unworthy of a man
to keep them to himself If he is worth his salt he
will maintain them. My father did not disguise what
he felt in his heart, and he suffered for his inde-
pendence. I wish you a good-day."

He bowed and looked hastily at Miss Frobisher,
whose cheek burned with shame. She could not
meet his eye ; her own were lowered and full of tears.

" Oh, papa ! papa ! " she gasped.

Mr. Beaudessart was gone.

" Papa, how could you treat him so after his great
civility to me ? It was I who asked him in. He was
most reluctant to come here, but I insisted."

" Like a fatuous girl, you did wrong out of sheer
dulness. It was a piece of outrageous impertinence
in him, poking his nose into this house. I am, thank
God, not dead yet, and till I am — But there, I have
no patience to speak of the fellow. To come prying

20 THE FROBISHERS

here ! Desirous to see the pictures, indeed ! He
wanted to peer about at everything — take stock of all
there is in the house."

" But why so, papa ? "

"Why! — because, forsooth, some day Pendabury
will be his."

" His— Mr. Beaudessart's ! "

Joan was startled.

" Yes, his ; but not one minute before I am laid in
the churchyard."

"How can that be? The estate has left the
Beaudessarts and come to us Frobishers."

" It has left them only during my life. Mr. Hector
yonder " — he pointed with his stick to the portrait of
the old squire — "his grandfather, very rightly was
incensed with his son, Walter, for taking up with
liberal views in politics, and for being bitten with
advanced church opinions, such as were promulgated
by the Oxford tract writers. Young fools at the time
were up in the clouds with all sorts of inflated notions.
Mr. Hector, the old squire, was furious with his son.
As Walter would not abandon his opinions, the old
man washed his hands of him, would not speak to
him or admit him over his doorstep. He left the
estate to me, his second wife's son by her former
marriage, for my life, to revert to the Beaudessarts
only after my decease and that of his son Walter,
who, he protested, should be excluded entirely from
the property."

PENDABURY 21

" Really, papa, I think that Walter was very hardly
treated. Young men are hot-headed and enthusiastic,
but they cool down as they grow older."

" I do not see that he was hardly treated. I do not
see it at all. It is I, or you, who meet with unfair
treatment. If I had been so happy as to have had a
son of my own, would I not have desired to transmit
Pendabury to him ? Is it not a monstrous injustice
that I should be debarred from so doing ? And you.
I should have liked to constitute you heiress, so that,
on your marriage, you would have carried this place
to your husband. But it cannot be. This Beaudessart
cub intervenes. When I depart this life you will have
to pack your portmanteaus and turn out. It is
atrocious, inhuman, unchristian."

" But, papa, it is we who are the interlopers. It is
the Beaudessarts who have been unjustly treated."

" Interlopers ! Oh, you think that jackanapes is
defrauded of his rights by your own father ? Is that
an opinion a child of mine dares to entertain ? There
is filial respect, indeed ! There is reverence for my
grey hairs! Is contrariety a thing bred in these
walls? Does a curse rest on Pendabury, that the
child there should rise up and call its parent
opprobrious names?"

" Oh, papa, I never did that ! If any wrong were
committed, it was not by you, but by the old Squire
Hector. However, let all that be — I really know
nothing of the particulars except what you have

THE FROBISHERS

divulged. But do consider in what a painful,
humiliating position I was placed by your speaking
to the young Mr. Beaudessart as you did, and
practically turning him out of the house."
" It was due to your own thoughtlessness."
" I knew nothing of what you have now told me ;
if I had I would have hesitated about asking him

m."

"But he was aware, and should not have taken
advantage of your ignorance. Enough of this — pour
me out some tea. Ha, shrimps! Tea is the only
meal at which I care for them, and then — if fresh — I
love them."

CHAPTER III

AN ORANGE ENVELOPE

SIBYLLA came singing into the dining-room in
bounding spirits.

"Oh, I am hungry! So glad there is cold beef.
I must have some beer. I cannot stand your tea
slops after a hard day. Papa, congratulate me! I
have had the most splendid day in my life ; a day to
be marked with white chalk, a day never to be for-
gotten."

Then ensued an account of how she was in at the
finish, with its concomitants.

" There were but five at the last," she added.
"Joan dropped out very early over some scruple
about Ruby. Bless me, Joan, why did you look?
If you had not seen the raw, you might have gone
on with a safe conscience. Do not pry, and seek to
discover what is best not known. Take it for granted
that all is well, till you have the contrary forced upon
you. That is my doctrine and philosophy."

" Prying — exactly ! " said Mr. Frobisher, looking up
from his shrimps. " We have had an exemplification

24 THE FROBISHERS

of prying here, that I have very properly exposed.
Joan, did that cub happen to ask the sizes of the
several rooms, so as to enable him to provide carpets ?
and the height of the windows for the furnishing of
curtains ? "

" Papa," answered Miss Frobisher, with pain in her
face and in her tone, " I take the entire blame upon
myself, as I have already assured you ; he was most
reluctant to intrude, but I insisted. I put it in such
a way as to leave him no option but to come here.
Sibyll is my witness. Even had I known that he was
the man to whom Pendabury must eventually fall, I
do not think that such knowledge would have weighed
heavily with me. Usually the heir to an estate is not
kept at a distance from it, and treated as an enemy
by him who is in present enjoyment. If that were
the usual condition of affairs, a father would be
invariably at daggers drawn with his eldest son."

"Joan, the circumstances in this case are
peculiar."

" I know no more of them than what I have just
been told. I daresay that I have judged hastily from
insufficient acquaintance with the particulars. Let
this pass, papa. I had no intention of causing you
annoyance, I can well assure you; and no one can
regret more than I do that this contretemps has
occurred."

"What is all this ruction about?" asked Sibylla,
and then, without waiting for an answer, which » a

AN ORANGE ENVELOPE 25

she saw, neither was disposed to give, she went on,
" Papa, Joan, who are coming to dinner to-night ? "

" The rector and Mrs. Barker, and the young lady
who is staying at Westholt, — I forget her name, —
Colonel Wood, and Mr. Prendergast."

" Let me see," said the younger girl. " Papa takes
in mother Frump; you are led by the rector;
Colonel Wood gives his arm to Miss Somebody or
other ; and I am consigned to Jack Prendergast, the
rector's pupil. Thank you. I shall have a headache
and not appear."

" But, Sibyll, you must"

" A lively dinner for me, indeed, with that hobble-
de-hoy, who can talk of nothing but his dog, and
whose notions of sport rise no higher than ratting.
Last time I sat by him he took my appetite away,
because he would talk of his dog's distemper — and
diagnose the disorder minutely. I am tired through
hunting; I shall not come down."

"But, Sibyll, indeed you must remember what is
due to our guests."

" Other people may be ill when they please, why
not I ? "

" But, remember^ you are the heroine of this day."

" Ah, I forgot ! Yes ; I shall be down. I'll open
Jack Prendergast's dull eyes. Why does he not come
out ? "

" He has not got a horse."

" But he should have one."

26 THE FROBISHERS

" I suppose he or his father cannot afford it."

" Then I do not see that we have any call to show
him civility. A man who does not keep his hunter
should know that his level is not ours."

"My dear Sibyll, it is not a note of gentility to
have a well-stuffed purse. A man may be nice and
yet poor."

"But he is not nice at all. He is not worth the
trouble of talking to."

" If he had a horse, he would yarn about that ; as
he has only a dog, that interests him, and it is your
duty to condescend to him, and maintain a doggy
conversation."

" I will not trouble myself to discuss what does not
interest me, and with a fellow so dull. He is reading
with Mr. Barker for the university, and is safe to be
plucked. He will disappear and subside into some
business or other, and we shall happily see him no more."

The butler entered with a salver, and presented to
the squire an orange envelope containing a telegraphic
despatch.

Mr. Frobisher dipped his fingers in water, and
leisurely wiped them on his napkin. Then he ad-
justed his pince-nez, and tore open the envelope.

Joan noticed that his face suddenly changed — a
shadow fell over it, and it became grey as his hair.

He rose, staggering, to his feet

"Matthews, order Fashion to be saddled and
brought round. I must at once to Lichfield."

AN ORANGE ENVELOPE 27

"Papa, not now!" exclaimed Sibyll. "You will
hardly be back for dinner."

" Papa, not Fashion," urged Joan ; " he is given to
shying. Let Thomas drive you in."

"Bid them saddle Fashion at once," said Mr.
Frobisher, putting out his hand, groping for his
stick.

"Yes, sir. Is it to be immediately?" asked the
butler.

" At once."

" What is the matter, papa ? " asked Joan, as soon
as the butler had withdrawn. At the same time she
found the stick and placed it in her father's hand.

" Matter ? You heard. I must go to Lichfield.
If I am not back at the time our guests arrive, make
my excuses. Say that urgent business has called me
away."

"But you must be back," said his youngest
daughter. "You must. Who else is to lead in
Mrs. Barker?"

" We will settle that," said Joan to her sister ; and
then to her father, " I wish you would let Thomas
drive you over in the dogcart."

" No, no," he answered impatiently. " I shall be
there quicker if I ride. Besides, I do not want
company of any kind."

"Joy ! " exclaimed Sibyll, " Colonel Wood will take
Mrs. Barker in, and Jack Prendergast will bring in
the young lady, and I shall thrust myself on the left

28 THE FROBISHERS

of Colonel Wood — he is a blas^oXd fool, but amusing,
and better company than Jack Prendergast" She
hummed a tune. "Joan, what was that tiff about
between you and the daddy ? " she asked, so soon as
her father had left the room.

"It was due to me. I brought in Mr. Beaudessart,
and he did not like it."

" What nonsense ! Of course, whenever the hunters
come this way we must offer them some refreshment.
I don't care whether papa growls and grumps — I shall
go on doing so."

" It was the name of Beaudessart that ruffled him."

" A man cannot help his name. And Beaudessart
is a good name, and is connected with this place."

" That is just it. You see, Sibyll, we are, though
papa may not relish the term, yet manifestly and
undoubtedly interlopers. This is a Beaudessart house
and estate, that has by some irregularity devolved
upon us. I do not quite riddle it out, but as far as I
can understand, old Mr. Hector Beaudessart passed
over his son, and left the place to papa, although no
blood relation whatsoever."

" I will get the new County History that is being
issued in parts," said Sibyll ; " it is in the room, and
our parish comes into one of the earlier numbers. It
is kept over yonder."

She went to the bookstand, and drew out some
paper-covered, octavo-sized parts.

"Here we are, Joan, and here is a view of the

AN ORANGE ENVELOPE 29

house. What do you want? nothing about the
parish, and the church, and all that Here is
Pendabury ! Listen ! ' Pendabury is a noble seat,
formerly in the possession of the Beaudessart family ;
the mansion stands with its back to a red sandstone
hill crowned with entrenchments, supposed to have
been occupied by the renowned Penda, King of the
Mercians.' We don't want all this. Now to the
point *This beautiful estate and residence was
devised by the late Mr. Hector Beaudessart to his
wife's son by a former husband, the present much-
esteemed possessor, Martin Frobisher, Esq.' Well,
that is all right ! It was left to papa, and here papa
and we are. What more would you have ? "

"Is there a pedigree of the Beaudessarts in the
book?" asked Joan.

" Yes, a long one — generations of them, since the
Conquest"

" How does it conclude ? "

" Here — * Hector Beaudessart of Pendabury, Esq.,
J.P., D.L., a former High Sheriff of the County,
married, in the first place. Prudence, daughter of
Herbert Knight, Esq., and had issue Walter of
Montreal, Canada, who married Josephine, daughter
of Henry Perleux of Les Rapides, Esq., and has
issue, in addition to a daughter, Julia, one son.
Hector.'"

" That was the young man who helped me home.
Go on, Sibyll."

30 THE FROBISHERS

" * Hector Beaudessart married secondly Elizabeth,
daughter of Joseph Francis, Esq., and widow of
Samuel Frobisher, Esq., and had no issue by his
second wife. The estate passed by his will to Martin
Frobisher, eldest son of the said Samuel and his wife
Elizabeth/ "

"That is our father, and this shows that we are
interlopers."

" Interlopers or not, we are jolly comfortable here,"
said Sibyll. "A blessed thing that old Hector
quarrelled with his son, and left Pendabury to papa.
I could kiss the old man for doing so."

"But it was very hard on his son and grand-
son."

" That is no concern of ours. Old Squire Hector
had a right, I suppose, to do with the property as he
would."

"As things stand, papa did not relish young Mr.
Beaudessart coming to see the place."

" It was natural that the fellow should like to take
a peep at what his father lost Not so bad a lot,
Joan, that of the cuckoo. Lucky job for us, anyhow.
It is an ill wind that does not blow good to someone.
Blessed be the east wind that touched up old Hector's
liver when he made his testament."

"But Pendabury is left to our father for his life
only."

" What, are not we to be co-heiresses ? "

" No."

AN ORANGE ENVELOPE 31

" I call that mean. I could box old Hector's ears
for that."

Sibylla threw the parts of the County History on
the carpet.

" Joan/' said she, leaning back in the cushioned easy-
chair, " we shall have rare fun to-morrow. You know
there will be a shooting party and a beat of the
Bradstreet coverts. We are to lunch in the wood,
and then, in the 'evening, have a dinner. No old
fogies and young half-baked lumps of fellows, but
really nice people, full — brimming with chaff."

"Yes. I am aware. But, Sibyll, do not leave
those numbers of the County History on the
floor."

" Why not ? "

" Joseph is so thoughtless. When he comes to put
coals on the fire he may tread on them as waste
paper. Put them back on the stand whence you took
them."

** Not I — I am stiff and tired. I will tell Joseph to
mind where he treads, and to collect them."

Joan stooped and gathered together half a dozen
dispersed separate issues of the volume, and after
arranging them in their proper sequence, replaced
them on the shelf whence her sister had taken them,
in a stand at the farther end of the room.

This done she turned round, and saw something
that startled and annoyed her.

" Sibyll, for shame 1 what are you doing ? "

32 THE FROBISHERS

"Only looking at the telegram, Joan. Papa had
dropped it under the table."

" Put it down. You have no right whatever to look
at it"

"If it had been so particular and private, he would
have burnt it or carried it away."

" He was unnerved, and perhaps forgot what he did
with it. You have acted very wrongly in touching it."

" I have done more than touch it ; I have read it,"
said Sibyll. " It is from London : * Willjoens Reef
smashed up. J. F. absconded.' J. F. may stand for
Uncle James."

At that moment the butler threw open the door
and Mr. Frobisher entered in hat, greatcoat, and
muffler, and with a whip in one hand.

" Did I chance to leave an orange envelope ? " he
asked. " Oh 1 " Sibyll had hastily laid the telegram
on pink paper upon the table. " That is what I want,
not the envelope."

He took it up with a hand that shook, as Joan
observed.

Then without giving final instructions to his
daughters, he was about to leave, when Joan said —

" Father, you will try to be back in time for dinner."

" If possible — can't say. Very serious news."

Then he left the room.

Joan went to one of the long windows and looked
out. Next moment she saw her father ride past

" I wish," said she, " that he had not decided on

AN ORANGE ENVELOPE

Fashion. Papa is much troubled in mind, and should
have had a steadier horse to ride." Then, leaving the
window, she picked up the telegram envelope and
threw- it into the fire, saying, "Sibyll, I am vexed
with you. You know that you did wrong in reading
the telegram."

" I don't care," retorted the younger. " Willjoens
Reef smashed up. Dynamite, I suppose. J. F. ab-
sconded into space, blown up into the clouds, maybe.
But no, dynamite strikes downwards. I wonder if
J. F. stands for Uncle James. If so, perhaps this
telegram promises us relief from his rather tiresome
presence and tedious commercial talk. I loathe all
that smacks and savours of trade and money-making.
It is vulgar."

CHAPTER IV

WITH THE DESSERT

JOAN FROBISHER, having lost her mother when
still a child, had been called upon by her father to
take that mother's place in social functions, to entertain
visitors, to occupy the head of the table at dinners, and
act generally as hostess. She was consequently able to
discharge her duties with easy confidence. Possessed
of good feeling and the tact that springs out of it,
she had united in her every requisite that goes to
make up a perfect hostess. She was skilful in starting
topics upon which she knew that her guests could
talk, in maintaining conversation in flow, and by
delicate intervention to draw every member of the
circle into it.

But on the occasion of the evening after the opening
hunt, when the party sat down and her father was
still absent, the burden of her task was felt by her as
oppressive and irksome; it was with an effort that
she discharged even the ordinary formalities.

The obligation under which she lay of apologising
for the lack of the presence of the host, and explaining

WITH THE DESSERT 35

it, was in itself embarrassing and a damper to con-
viviality. But in addition there was much that
occupied her mind, and there were cares that distracted
it. She could not shake off the painful impression
produced on her by her father's treatment of Mr.
Beaudessart. Not only was his behaviour unjust
towards him, but it was humiliating to herself. The
mortification was the more poignant because she
could not but perceive that it was Mr. Beaudessart
and his father who were the injured parties, and that
her father, her sister, and herself were occupying a
position to which they had attained solely through
the caprice of a masterful and resentful old tyrant

She recalled the smile that had played about the
young man's lips when she had spoken such bold
words about the Frobishers maintaining themselves
in Pendabury against all attempts that might be made
to dislodge them. He was aware at the time how
empty the boast was. She coloured at the recollection
that she had made it.

But if thoughts associated with this passage in
the day's proceedings were painful, those that con-
cerned the telegram were disquieting. The initials
J. F. probably did serve to indicate her uncle, James
Frobisher, as her sister had surmised. She knew
that he was interested in a gold mine in the
Transvaal.

She had not made her uncle's acquaintance till
recently — a year ago— as he had been all his time in

36 THE FROBISHERS

South Africa, Australia, Brazil, and California. He
had been a wanderer, picking up a good deal of
information in his wanderings, but shedding a good
deal of the finer qualities of an Englishman at the
same time.

He was full of schemes for making money, but
none of these schemes as yet had enriched himself;
the reason being, as he insisted, that you must have
gold to make gold — ^as you must sow grain to reap
a wheaten harvest. As he had been unprovided with
capital he had seen others spring into the position
of millionaires, and been himself incapable of follow-
ing them.

He had obtained unbounded influence over her
father, whom he had dazzled with his speculative
projects.

Certainly Uncle James had been an entertaining
man for a while, but wearisome to listen to for long,
especially to such as had no money to embark in
foreign ventures. Joan had not been able to feel
confidence in his integrity. He was too fluent,
flexible, and flashy, to inspire trust. There was an
apparent lack in him of an indefinable something,
and that a something like principle, and there was
a shiftiness that implied an absence of strict views
as to right and wrong.

Joan had behaved towards her uncle with gracious
courtesy, even with friendliness, but without being
able to draw to him with affection. On the other

WITH THE DESSERT 37

hand, Sibyll had treated him with positive rudeness.
She disliked her uncle because his conversation was
about means of making money, speculation in rail-
ways, mines, factories, brandy distilleries, hotels ; and
Sibyll abhorred what she called " shop-talk."

Joan was disturbed over the telegraphic message,
which was curt but significant. She shivered
internally with the dread lest her uncle should have
been engaged in some equivocal proceedings con-
nected with what he termed the floating of his
Willjoens Gold Reef Company, and that this had
come to light and had forced him to levant.

She had no real foundation for such a surmise
other than the words of the telegram, but she had
no trust in her uncle's probity. She feared lest her
father might have become entangled in the schemes
of his brother.

Joan was proud as she was upright, and the surmise
was enough to make her sick at heart ; under a placid
exterior she was forced to hide the troubles and fears
that were distracting her.

The dining-room at Pendabury was a very stately
apartment It was long, lofty, and of a suitable
width. The walls were panelled with old deal in
immensely wide slabs, so perfectly seasoned and
nicely united as to give the impression of each panel
being composed of one single slice from a gigantic
pine. The panels were enclosed within a moulded
framework, and a rich cornice, or entablature, broken

38 THE FROBISHERS

by the mitring above pilasters at intervals, divided
the walls into sections ; this was happily worked in
with the rich plaster decoration of the ceiling. The
woodwork was painted dark, and against this back-
ground the pictures showed to advantage.

The furniture was of mahogany, upholstered with
velvet, of a comparatively modem character, and
though rich and solid, was not in keeping with the
Queen Anne style of the room.

The curtains were drawn ; a large fire of logs,
backed up with coke, was blazing and glowing on
the hearth. The table sparkled with silver and glass
and candles, and was rich with colour from the
Alamander and Tacsonia blossoms, and wreaths of
Smilax that decorated the cloth. The whole afforded
a look of comfort, elegance, and wealth such as is
seen nowhere so well as in England.

The rector sat on Joan's right hand. He was an
amiable, elderly man, with grey hair and whiskers
that were white; a man such as an Established
Church can alone produce, and produce to an almost
unlimited extent; well-bred, well-educated, harmless
in life, and best described by a series of negatives. In
an Established Church, patrons, whether public or
private, whether crown or mitre, chancellor or squire,
seek to promote only such men as are colourless in
opinion and deficient of independence of character,
who they may be sure will give no offence in any-
thing, that the ministry be not blamed, and that

WITH THE DESSERT 39

they will, in this one quality, sum up all their
characteristics.

Mr. Barker, rector of the parish, was a keen angler,
an enthusiastic bee-keeper, and a conscientious parish
priest.

The party at table was small, and the table had
accordingly not been enlarged.

Colonel Wood had led in Mrs. Barker, but Sibyll
sat on his left side, and the colonel paid a good deal
more attention to her than he did to his partner. He
was one of those old gentlemen whose sole idea of
conversation with a young woman is banter, the
paying of little compliments, the making of little
jokes, the talking of little nonsenses, the production
of abundant chaff, and the never letting drop one
grain of good sense. He was not an unintelligent
man by any means, but in the society of young ladies,
which was the society he particularly affected, he
aimed at laborious silliness.

Joan saw what was going on between the colonel
and Sibyll, to the neglect of the old lady — a gentle,
charming person, limited in her range of ideas and
sympathies, but purely refined and kindly.

It vexed Joan, and she took occasion repeatedly
to make a remark to and draw a few sentences from
Mrs. Barker, so as not to allow her to feel that she
was being neglected.

"In no summer that I have known since I have
been here," droned the rector, " has the fern-web been

40 THE FROBISHERS

so abundant; I went out one morning through the
brakes oifilix mas^ and I believe I was able to detach
a beetle from every third leaf. You know, of course,
that the coccabundi is none other than the fern-web."

On the side opposite to the colonel, Sibyll, and
Mrs. Barker, sat young Prendergast and Miss
Foljamb. They seemed to be ill-matched. The
young man was fidgeting under his chair with a pet
dog that belonged to Sibyll, and which was allowed
to go where it liked. He had feebly attempted con-
versation with the young lady, but she belonged to
the intellectual order, and promptly snubbed him.

"You have had no experience with the Rontgen
ray ? " she asked, ifixing him with a hard eye.

" N — no— is it anything a chap can eat ? "

"Oh, Miss Foljamb," said Joan, "what a privi-
lege — if you know how to use the X ray. I shall
have to enlist your services. Poor Goody Brash
has swallowed a paper of pins — as Mrs. Barker can
tell you, and we have been in such a way about her.
We do not know how to work the X ray, even if
we get the apparatus, so as to find whereabouts in
her system the pins have distributed themselves.
Mr. Prendergast, do tell me how Towzer is. Has
the stick of brimstone in his drinking-bowl done him
good?" Then she turned her head. "Now, my
dear rector — what are the characteristics of the
coccabundi ? "

Spots of colour burnt in Joan's cheek. She was

WITH THE DESSERT 41

consumed by an internal fever, and in addition to her
own cares, she was fretted at Sibyll's conduct and
want of consideration for Mrs. Barker.

The dessert was laid, and Joan was sensible of
relief at the thought that in ten minutes the ladies
would retire, when Matthews, the butler, came to her
side, and said in a low tone, " I beg your pardon,
miss, but you are wanted immediately in the hall."

"Will it not do presently? We shall all then be
leaving."

" No, miss, it is — it is most particular."

The tone of his voice startled her ; she looked up,
and saw that the man was not only grave, but was
a prey to great agitation.

Instantly rising to her feet, she apologised to
Mrs. Barker.

" Prithee excuse me — I am summoned from you —
for a moment."

" We may as well all rise," said Mrs. Barker.

"Oh no! — no! I shall be back presently. It
may be nothing, but Matthews urges me to go. I
ask your pardon, gentlemen, for my momentary
withdrawal. Some business that requires my
immediate attention calls me away." She left the
room, and was in the hall. Then the butler shut the
door of communication between it and the dining-
room.

Joan saw the groom awaiting her. He touched his
forehead. The great hall was but partially lighted

42 THE FROBISHERS

with one large coloured lamp, and she could not see
the man's face distinctly.

" You have something to say to me, Thomas ? "

" Beg pardon, miss," said he ; " it's Fashion never
could abide the smell or sight of a donkey. There's
no vice in him, none at all, but he is terrible nervous."

" But what is the matter? "

The groom again saluted.

" You see, miss, there's a bit of a moon, and the
miller's old donkey — it's grey, miss, perhaps you
know, and I daresay the heavy dew have brought
out the smell rank like, and with the winter coat on
him thick. And that there stoopid donkey — nothen
else would do, but he must stand in the paddock
lookin' out into the road over the gate. The squire,
miss, he came trottin' 'ome from Lichfield upon
Fashion, and comes round a corner right on that
there donkey, lookin', miss, and smellin' orful. And
whether it were the looks of him in the moon, or the
smell of him in the winter coat and all damp, I can't
say, miss ; maybe it were both ! "

"Well?"

" And up like a squirrel goes Fashion, or rather,
fust he jumped sideways across the road, and then up
the bank, where he never could hold on, miss, and
away he rolls with master, and down he comes into
the road ; or else whether, when he swerved, master
fell off, and afore Fashion went runnin' up the
bank "—

WITH THE DESSERT 43

" My father ! " Joan's heart stood still.

" Well, miss, Vm afraid it's terrible bad. They've
took him into the miller's house. But there really is
no vice in Fashion — it's all nerves — there never was
so timid an 'oss."

The butler, who had been standing with his back
to the dining-room door, with the handle in his hand,
now came forward, and said —

" Miss, I fear the case is serious — very serious —
could hardly be worse."

Joan gasped. For a moment she stood as one
stunned, with her hand to her heart. Then she
rallied, and walked to the dining-room, the door of
which Matthews opened for her.

She stood in the entrance, white as a sheet, her
eyes lustrous, yet fixed with horror.

" Mrs. Barker, oh ! — and rector — all, please to
leave us. There has been an accident. My father ;
my poor father " —

She did not finish the sentence ; her fortitude gave
way, and she burst into tears.

But there was no need for her to say more. All
understood what was implied but left unsaid.

CHAPTER V

FACING THE WORST

MR. SHAND, the family solicitor, was seated
in the library with the two girls, Joan and
Sibylla Frobisher, a few days after the funeral. He
was a formal man, with the complexion of an under-
baked seedcake. The girls were, as a matter of course,
in deep mourning. The face of Joan bore the marks

of wearing and protracted anxiety. She realised, in a
manner impossible to her shallow sister, that a crisis in

their lives had been reached. That they must leave
Pendabury neither doubted, but Joan shrewdly sus-
pected there were unpleasant revelations that would
have to be made shortly, concerning the matter of
the gold mine. The younger girl had dismissed the
telegram from her thoughts, occupied only with her
father's death and funeral, but it was not possible for
Joan to disguise from herself that the brief message
which had brought about her father's fatal ride to
Lichfield was fraught with further trouble. She
accordingly fixed her eyes on the lawyer with intensity
of attention, and with a heart within her bosom that

FACING THE WORST 45

quivered with apprehension. Nevertheless, she was
aware of a sense of relief at the prospect of now at
last learning everything, of having her worst fears
either dissipated or confirmed. Certainly she could
bear that better than prolonged suspense.

" Young ladies," said the solicitor, " I have some
very distressing news to communicate. I would have
asked the rector to relieve me of a painful duty, but
that the matter belongs to my province rather than
to his, and that to me alone all the particulars are
known." He coughed behind his hand. " After your
irreparable loss of a father, which we all deplore,
comes a second blow that I fear will also prove
irreparable, and will be equally felt, though of a
different kind. I presume that you are aware that
the former squire — I mean the penultimate, Mr.
Hector Beaudessart, left to your father, the son of his
wife by a first husband, the enjoyment of the manor
and estate and mansion of Pendabury during the
term of his natural life, with reversion to the issue,
lawfully begotten, of his son Walter, that is to say, to
the present Mr. Hector Beaudessart, now of Rosewood
Cottage, who was not bom at the time that the elder
Mr. Hector made the testamentary disposition of his
estate. It was never his intention to permanently
alienate from his family the property which it had
held in possession for many generations, but to mark
with his displeasure his son Walter, in a most sensible
manner. I use the expression sensible not in its

46 THE FROBISHERS

popular significance, but in that which is more legiti-
mate, as implying a manner that would be felt.
Whether Mr. Walter Beaudessart's conduct was of a
nature deserving of such severe notice, it is, happily,
not my place to consider, and therefore I will pass no
opinion either upon that or upon the method adopted
by his father to emphasise his reprobation. It suffices
me to state the fact that Mr. Walter, now deceased,
was debarred from entering upon the estate of
Pendabury, and from deriving any pecuniary or other
advantage from it Your father, whose decease we
so profoundly deplore, had no power left him of
imposing any charge on the estate, on behalf of his
widow, had his wife survived him, or of any child he
might have. Consequently, all that he was able to
do, so as to make provision for your future, was to lay
by annually a certain sum deducted from the revenues
of the property. You understand me, young ladies ? *'

" Perfectly," said Joan.

" I cry shame on old Hector," said Sibyll ; " I
should like to poke my parasol through his picture.
We have better right to Pendabury than any whipper-
snapper from the Colonies, for we were bom here."

"If your father had acted in accordance with my
advice," pursued Mr. Shand, ignoring Sibylla's words,
" you would be now in a very different position from
that in which you actually are placed. He ought to
have heavily insured his life for your benefit. This,
however, he would not do. He preferred to invest

FACING THE WORST 47

his savings. Unhappily, of late, he sold out all his
securities, and transferred the proceeds to a gold
mine in South Africa, In which your uncle was
largely interested, and of the prospects of which he
was vastly sanguine. Mr, James Frobisher was a
man by nature hopeful and confident, and, to employ
a serviceable colloquialism, all his geese were swans.
He was assured that the Willjoens Reef was auriferous,
and would yield an enormous interest on capital spent
in developing it. Your father — whose deplorable
decease we cannot forget — implicitly believed in him,
and caught fire at the representations of Mr. James
Frobisher, when he came to England for the purpose
of forming a company for the working of the mine.
Your lamented and ever to be lamented father with-
drew his money, sold all his investments that were
absolutely safe, and yielded from four to four and a half
per cent actually, one only was at three and a quarter,
and against my advice, I may say my urgent entreaty,
he sank everything he had amassed on your behalf
in this South African venture. As I pointed out to
him at the time, — you will excuse another colloquial-
ism, though vulgar, — it is ill to put all your eggs into
one basket I need hardly inform you that your father
— whom we so profoundly deplore — was not a man to
be turned from his purpose when he had formed
such."

" Indeed he was not," threw in Sibyll, " and in that
my sister Joan takes after him."

48 THE FROBISHERS

" Quite so. And in spite of my graye and reiterated
remonstrances, he put every penny that he had saved
through twenty-eight years into that — to my mind —
most risky speculation. I am sorry to have to inform
you that my worst anticipations have been realised.
Those who were shareholders, not feeling satisfied
with the report that had been received, before em-
barking further in the matter, privately despatched
an expert to investigate the Willjoens Reef. To this
I believe your father was either not a party or a
reluctant party. No sooner did this independent
report reach home — than your uncle disappeared.
The report was most unsatisfactory; it represented
the estate which was to have proved an Eldorado
as practically worthless. It lies outside the fringe
of profitable gold-producing reefs. Your uncle, no
doubt quite unconsciously, had been associated with
a party of eminently unscrupulous men, Jews for the
most part, who have been thrusting Willjoens and
other valueless properties on the market. Some
properties in the Transvaal are gold - producing,
because gold is found in them. Such Willjoens is
not. Others are gold-producing only so far that gold
is got by them out of the pockets of credulous specu-
lators in England and elsewhere — and such gold goes
into the pockets of the men who float the concern.
I regret to say that such is Willjoens Reef."

" Then, what has become of all our money ? " asked
Sibyll.

FACING THE WORST 49

" Gone, young lady. A parcel of unprincipled Jews
have it, who will never be made to disgorge. It is
lost utterly and beyond recovery."

" What, then, shall we have to live upon ? "

" There remains nothing of the accumulations made
by your father so sadly removed from us. As your
mother had no private means, no income comes to
you in that way. You will receive what is brought
in by a sale at Pendabury, but that will not furnish a
considerable sum. The late Mr. Hector Beaudessart
made a list of pictures, books, and the amount and
kind of plate, all which he decided were to remain
as heirlooms, and were to be inalienable. Conse-
quently, in a sale, only furniture can be offered, glass
and china, the horses, carriages, and contents of the
saddle-room, the bulbs in the beds and plants in the
greenhouses and conservatories."

" Fudge ! " said Sibyll, " we cannot possibly live on
that We will cut down the timber on the estate, and
raise several thousand pounds by that means."

" You have no power to do so," said Mr. Shand, in
dry, monotonous voice. "By your father's most
lamentable decease, everything has passed to Mr.
Hector Beaudessart except such contents of the
house and its appurtenances as are not scheduled as
heirlooms."

" I never heard the like. I do not agree to it," said
Sibyll.

** Dear Miss Sibylla, your consent is not asked or

50 THE FROBISHERS

required. As I have stated, so the matter stands,
and is unalterable. To use a vulgarism, for which I
know you will pardon me, and for which I apologise
beforehand, what can't be cured must be endured.
With your leave. Miss Frobisher, I will give notice to
the domestics. There will, perhaps, be something in
the bank that will defray their wages and the cost of
the funeral, and provide for your immediate neces-
sities. The court day for the half-year that terminates
at Michaelmas has not yet been held, as a month's
grace is always allowed to the tenants. You will be
entitled, of course, to the money that then comes in,
less certain charges and the payment of property
bills out of it. That will be yours, when your father's
will has been proved, young ladies. If you will take
my advice, you will be so wise as to remove at your
earliest possible convenience from Pendabury, and
install yourselves in some place less expensive to keep
up. To employ a vulgarism once more, for which I
crave excuse — ^you must cut your coat according to
your cloth."

"Probably our best course will be to go to our
aunts Benigna and Charlotte," said Joan, "our
father's sisters at Stafford."

"Aunt Benigna may whistle for me," exclaimed
Sibylla. " Why, Joan, you know I could never abide
either. Benigna belies her name ; she is always scold-
ing and finding fault : she has never a good word to
say to one — but harangues and sermonises till it

FACING THE WORST 51

makes one sick. As to Charlotte — she is an old
stupid, who smiles and sips tea, and has not an idea
in her head."

" I am afraid, young lady," said the solicitor, " that
these ladies will be found in no position to receive
you. I am apprised that they also have lost every-
thing in this Willjoens Reef. They were talked over
by their brother James into intrusting their little
fortune in his hands. It is infinitely sad and unfor-
tunately true."

" Good heavens ! Poor dear old ladies ! " gasped
Joan. " At their age, what can they do ? "

" That settles their hash," said Sibylla ; " so talk no
more to me of aunts Benig^a and Charlotte."

" Mr. Shand," said Joan, " under the circumstances,
what is your advice ? "

" A sale of everything that can be sold," answered
the lawyer, "is not likely to bring in sufficient to
maintain you in even moderate comfort. What your
father's liabilities are I cannot yet tell. I greatly fear
he has risked money of his own apart from what he
had laid by for you, and that this may make a sad
hole in the half-year's rent. Have you relatives who
would come to your aid ? "

Joan shook her head.

"Not one. Uncle James Frobisher is now out of
the question. My aunts are also out of the question.
I really know of none other — that is, none to whom
I would care to apply. My dear mother belonged to

52 THE FROBISHERS

the Hopgoods — a respectable but not wealthy manu-
facturing family. My father kept up no relations
with them. He considered that his position debarred
him from so doing. I would not, indeed I could not
consistently with self-respect apply to those whom my
dear father so persistently held all these years at arm's
leng^. To appeal as a pauper to them is more than
my pride could endure."

" Do not even think of such a thing," said Sibyll.
" I wash my hands of the whole Hopgood lot."

" And your father's family ? "

"On that side — no relatives other than Uncle
James and my two impoverished aunts."

"There is one thing." Mr. Shand spoke hesitat-
ingly, and looked down on the table as he spoke.
" Your case is sure to evoke much sympathy. I do
not quite know how you will take it — there is a
homely and good proverb — but I will not venture
to quote it I have talked the matter over with the
Reverend Mr. Barker, your rector, without, of course,
entering into particulars, merely indicating the broad
outlines of the case. We both think that under the
exceptional circumstances, and seeing how widely
respected your father was, chairman on the bench
and patron of so many societies for the benefiting of
the agriculture, and horticulture, and poultry-raising
of the country, that some little collection might pos-
sibly be suggested that would be warmly taken up
by — of course — the county people to— to " —

FACING THE WORST

"Sir!" Joan flamed through throat, cheeks, and
temples. " Not another word to that effect"

"I confess I have no other suggestion to make,"
said the solicitor.

~I thank you, Mr. Shand. I am glad that you
have stated the condition of our affairs so plainly,"
said Joan. " Practically we are left, if not absolutely
destitute, yet without a sufliciency to maintain us,
unless we eat up our little capital. That capital,
whatever it may prove to be, is best left to fall back
upon in an emergency. Now that we know the very
worst, there is but one thing that can be done — and
that is to face it, and face it with good heart, frankly."

CHAPTER VI

IN THE BEAUDESSART ARMS

ONE morning, a week after the interview with
Mr. Shand, the sisters were in their own
private sitting-room together.

Joan was putting away sundry trifles that belonged
to her, and getting rid of the ten thousand accumu-
lations that gather jn a house during a long tenancy.
She burned many old bills and letters.

Sibyll was engaged in doing little more than help
her sister, by ensuring combustion of bills and letters,
by turning them over, or pressing them down among
the coals with the poker in her hand.

" I have made up my mind what I shall do," said
she. ''I shall go a round of visits, and spend my
Christmas with the Maleverers. I shall be able to
spin out my engagements through the spring and
early summer, and by that time something is sure
to turn up."

"You cannot do this," said Joan, looking at her
sister with surprise ; " visiting comes expensive."

" But it will be economy — I shall save my grub
with you."

IN THE BEAUDESSART ARMS 55

" Dear Sibyll, that is nothing. Visiting will entail
a gcx)d deal of outlay in dress."

" You would not have me go shabby."

" No— but as Mr, Shand says, ' You must cut your
coat according to your cloth.' You must dress as
our means will permit. Besides, there are the
servants — presents must be made to them — and there
is the cost of travelling. Indeed, Sibyll, it is not
possible."

"What shall we be driven to do? Go out as
governesses ? Well, if I can find a nice family, where
the children give no trouble and the salary is good,
I will even submit to that Miss Blair did not have
a bad time of it with us — only she would so per-
sistently paint and frizzle, and set her cap at
papa."

" Sibyll, you have not been educated for a
governess."

"Pshaw! I can read and write and spell indif-
ferently well. I am not much of a hand at the
piano, but of course I could teach. It only means
letting the pupil muddle along at the scales, and
you sit by with a novel, and just throw in a word
now and then."

"No, dear, you have neither the training nor the
application."

" I have as much as most governesses."

"That may be — but the country is overrun with
incapables drifting from situation to situation, staying

56 THE FROBISHERS

a term in each, till their incapacity has demonstrated
itself unequivocally. No— you are not calculated to
be a successful governess."

"Then I shall go on the stage. There are pots
of money to be made there so long as one is decent-
looking."

" The stage is a profession that is most exacting.
It demands training and hard work. You know,
Sibyll, that you have a woeful short memory. Go
on with the beginning of the Paradise Lost^ from

' Of man's fiist disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree ' "—

" No, Joan, I detest Milton ; you know that."
" Well, then, try something else that you learned
quite recently with Miss Blair —

'The stag at eve had drunk his fill
Where danced the moon on Monan's rill.'"

" I have forgotten all that stuff."

" Sibyll, no stage for you. You are as ill-adapted
for that profession as you are to be a governess."

"Then I shall become a nurse. Some of the
nurses' costumes are quite fascinating, and they
have a jolly lively time in the hospitals, I hear."

" My dear Sibyll, you would have to pass through
an apprenticeship, scrubbing the floors and doing
real menial work, with a chance of being rejected."

"Tm not going to do anything menial. Scrub
the floors indeed ! Black the medical students

IN THE BEAUDESSART ARMS 57

boots next! Not I — rather than that 111 marry
old Colonel Wood."

"It is not leap year, so you cannot ask him if
he will have you."

At this juncture Matthews entered with a salver
and presented a note to Miss Frobisher.

"Any answer?" she inquired.

"I really do not know, miss. The boy brought
it from the Beaudessart Arms, and said that he had
forgotten whether he was to wait for an answer
or not"

Joan opened the envelope, which was addressed to
her in a feminine hand, and her face at once assumed
an expression of surprise.

"In a moment, Matthews. I must consider."

The butler withdrew.

"It is odd," she said, rather to herself than to
her sister. "What can she want?"

" Who, Joan ? "

" Look yourself at the note." She passed the sheet
to her sister.

Sibyll read it, tossed it across the table, and said,
" I call that a jolly bit of cheek. If I were you I
^ould not answer it in any way."

"I do not know what she wants. It may be
kindly intended."

"Oh, kindly intended indeed! The gloating
cormorant! Allow me to go and give her my
mind plainly and forcibly expressed."

58 THE FROBISHERS

"No, Sibyll, she asks to see me. I will go, but
I do not much Itke this. Touch the bell."

When the butler reappeared, Joan said, "There
is no message. I will answer the note tn person."

Then she left the room, dressed to go out, and
quitted the house.

As she walked through the grounds along the
drive, she could not but wince at the sight of such
familiar and beautiful landscape that she would
be leaving without a prospect of seeing it again.

Hard by the entrance lodge stood a neat inn,
" The Beaudessart Arms," and to that Joan directed
her steps. She was immediately admitted to the
little parlour, where was seated a lady in widow's
weeds. She had abundant white hair, and dark
eyes under well-drawn dark ^ebrows.

She rose immediately, and advancing towards
the visitor, said, " Miss Frobisher."

" Mrs. Beaudessart, I presume."

"Will you take a chair?" said the lady. "I dare-
say you are surprised at the step I have taken of
driving over from Rosewood, and putting up my
cob here, and then sending to entreat your visit.
For many reasons I thought it most expedient to
adopt this method of communicating with you.
Will you not be seated?"

Joan did not accept the invitation ; she made a
slight apolt^etic bow, and remained standing.

" Miss Frobisher," continued the widow, in a gentle

IN THE BEAUDESSART ARMS 59

voice tinged with a Colonial accent, " there are things
better spoken between woman and woman than com-
mitted to writing, or passed through the medium
of a solicitor. It sometimes happens that words at
one time read leave one callous, which at another
time move one to tears. So much depends on the
reader and the mood of the listener. I wish to
communicate a proposition, that I prefer should
come from my lips to your ear, than that it should
reach you in any other way. There has been
estrangement, bitterness, in the past, harsh thoughts
and resentful feelings have been entertained — but
those heads in which the thoughts tossed are laid
low, on one side and the other. The hearts that
were fired with resentment are both still. There
is no reason why we should cany on these same
feelings ; let them die and he forgotten. Come, I
will have you by my side on the sofa." She laid
her hand on Joan's wrist, and drew her down.

" I can assure you that my son and I have no
other thought towards you than one of deep sym-
pathy and heartfelt goodwill. He has had the
privil^e of making your acquaintance. I should
have gone on my way grieving at not knowing
you — and that is one reason why I have been so
bold as to ask you to honour me with a visit
here."

She retained her hand on Joan's wrist, and looked
at her with her kind eyes.

6o THE FROBISHERS!

"Miss Frobisher, let me tell you a little about
ourselves."

Joan wondered. The lady seemed reluctant to
make the proposal she had said it was her purpose
to make, and to make which she had driven over
from Rosewood.

"When my dear husband was dismissed from
home — it was for no wrong done, but because he
entertained opinions very different from his father —
he went to Canada, and entered a house of business.
He was advanced from being clerk to be partner,
and realised a respectable fortune, after which he
withdrew entirely from business, just before his
death. I do not say that what he made was a
large sum, so that my son Hector was left a wealthy
man, but that he was comfortably off. On account
of his expectations in England there was no necessity
that he should be put into business. It might
have been better if he had been, as then his life
would have been less desultory. However, I have
not come here to discuss that. My dear husband's
one ambition was that Hector should grow up to
be a thorough English gentleman, and he was
willing — in order to ensure this — to undergo great
sacrifices, the greatest of all the parting with his
son to be bred in England. However, I have not
asked you to meet me that I might talk about my
son, but about yourself and your sister. Will you
take what I am going to say in good part, as it

IN THE BEAUDESSART ARMS 6i

is intended? We are not relatives, and yet it
almost seems as though we ought to be akin.
Cannot earth constitute a tie as well as blood?
You have been born, and lived on, and have loved
Pendabury, where my husband was born and where
his forefathers had lived for centuries. And I may
say that, separated from it by the wide ocean,
deprived of it, he loved it to the last with intense
passion. As somehow akin, linked through Penda-
bury, my son and I consider that we are allied
to you. If you will acknowledge the bond, none
so gratified and happy as we. Hector thinks, and
so do I, that in common fairness, if your father had
been given the estate for his life, he ought to have
been allowed to charge it to a reasonable amount
for his family. It was hardly treating him fairly
to deny him the means to provide for his nearest
and dearest. Now, Miss Frobisher" — the lady
pressed the girl's wrist gently — "you will allow
it to be so— let there be a small sum paid over
to you and your sister in quarterly instalments ;
just as your father would have desired had he
been able so to arrange it."

"You are very kind," answered Joan, touched by
the offer and the way in which it had been made.
" I feel unable to express to you how deeply I
am moved by your goodness. But do not be angry,
do not consider me ungrateful, if I say that I
cannot possibly accept this generous proposition.

62 THE FROBISHERS

I tell yoUy in all frankness, that since I have known
how my father stepped into the Pendabury estate,
I have felt that a great injustice was done to Mr.
Walter Beaudessart. If my father had viewed the
matter as I do, he would have refused to profit
by the will, and have set himself to work out a
career for himself, gone into business, and made
his own way to a competence. Actually, the
whole twenty-eight years that he lived in Pendabury
were years in which the rightful owner was thrust
out of the enjoyment of it. He to whom the place
properly belonged never had it, and I cannot consent
to take anything more out of the estate. I recognise,
with all my heart, the kind intent that has prompted
you to make me this noble offer, but excuse me if
I say that I cannot accept it Already has Mr.
Shand offered to send round the hat among those
we have known and entertained and regarded as
our fellows. I declined the proposal. The rector
has heard of some almshouses for decayed gentle-
women, and has asked me to sanction his canvassing
for votes to get me and my sister into one of them —
as buxom damsels to figure as decayed gentlewomen.
I could not entertain such an idea. I refused that
also. No, dear Mrs. Beaudessart, I feel that it is
exhilarating, like having the east wind in one's face,
to meet the world and make one's own fate, and rely on
God, one's stout heart, and ten nimble fingers — but I
thank you all the same." And she stood up to depart.

CHAPTER VII

JULIE

TV yr Y daughter Julie, Miss Frobisher."

A young lady entered, dressed as a hospital
nurse. She had an oval face, abundant glossy dark
hair, that swelled out from under her bonnet, her
mother's clear brown eyes, like drops of crystal water
over agates, and rather thick dark eyebrows. There
was strength in her build, decision in her tread. A
look was sufficient. Joan knew that she would like
her — ^indeed, she liked her instinctively already.

" Another of my audacities," said Mrs. Beaudessart.
" I made Julie come with me in the hopes of getting
you to meet."

"Miss Frobisher, I see, was just about to leave
you, mamma," said Julie; "if she does not object,
I will stroll with her for a few minutes wherever
she is going."

" I am going home — I mean," with a slight flush,
"to Pendabury."

" I will accompany you part of the way — if you
will allow me," said the nurse.

64 THE FROBISHERS

Joan bowed. She was not desirous of company.
She had no wish to extend acquaintance with more
of the Beaudessart family — but she could not refuse,
and she was drawn towards this girl. Moreover, the
thought traversed her brain that, other schemes fail-
ing, she herself might seek means of self-support in
nursing, although her sister might be unfitted for
such a career.

She said, "It will be a real pleasure to me."

As the two girls passed through the gates into the
park — for park the grounds might well be designated,
though containing no deer — Joan glanced with a
transient, and, as she felt, unworthy suspicion at her
companion, to see if she were observant of the dignity
of the approach to the mansion. But Julie was not
looking about her — she kept her eyes on the ground.

" Have you long been engaged in nursing?" asked
Joan.

" For three years — that is the time since I entered
on probation in a hospital."

" Now, I presume, you will give it up ? "

" Oh no 1 I could not do so."

" Why not ? There can now be no necessity for it"

"There has been no pecuniary necessity hitherto.
Our means were sufficient without my doing any
work. But — there are other necessities that make
the work one I cannot abandon."

" I do not comprehend."

" May I tell you a little story of my childhood ? "

JULIE 6s

The clear brown eyes were turned on Joan and
met hers, eyes that were limpid wells, at the bottom
of which truth must lie.

" It is not much of a story. It would be better to
describe it as an incident. Yet it was one that
determined the whole course of my life."

"Then it was a first chapter in a story that is
slowly unfolding."

" I suppose so. It is nothing in itself— except to
me, and to me everything. When I was a little girl
at Montreal, my bedroom was at the back of the
house, and overlooked a small yard or garden, beyond
which was the back of another house, with windows
looking into the same yard or garden. In a room
that had a window opposite was a woman dying of
cancer. All night long there was a candle in her
room, and it cast a reflection through my window
upon the wall, a little patch of faded yellow light,
yet sufficient to tell me, as I lay in bed, that there
was someone sick and suffering over against me,
across the yard. I did not know at first why a
light was always burning in that upper room, but
after a while my mother mentioned it, yet not all
the particulars. These I learned from some of the
maidservants. If I had spoken about the light, they
would have removed me to another room, but so soon
as I knew why it was there I could not have endured
to be taken elsewhere. I became accustomed to
lie awake thinking of the sick woman and praying
5

66 THE FROBISHERS

for her. And then, after a while, all night long she
moaned, and I could hear her moans. I doubt if she
ever slept. If I did, and woke up, I heard her moans
again. Sometimes during the day I went into the
yard. I heard them in the day. I believe that I
became white and worn from want of sleep and
fretting over that woman and her terrible pains. My
mother did not know what was the matter with me,
and I would not tell her, lest she should insist on
my removal to another apartment I should have
suffered more elsewhere, knowing that the poor
creature was in pain and moaning, and I unable to
hear her, and that the light was shining from her
window and that I could not see it. I had many and
many a cry about that suffering woman. Can you
believe it ? I once did a very daring thing. I went
to the house, without telling my mother, and knocked
and asked to be allowed to go up into the sickroom
and kiss her. They would not permit me. At last
she died — and the light went out."

" And that determined your vocation ? " said Joan
gravely.

" It did."

"It would have mine — I think — I — I hope," said
Joan. " But I have never met with any real case of
great suffering. Goody Brash once swallowed a paper
of pins, and she is always fussing about them, and
sending for brandy, because they hurt her. They are
all over her system."

JULIE 67

" I was a little thing of thirteen then," said Julie,
" but I never have had any other thought since at the
bottom of my heart, but to do all I could to help those
who suffer, and to comfort those in pain. Now do
you see? It matters nothing to me if my brother be
rich. I must be a nurse. Do you remember what
the apostle says, *Woe is me if I preach not the
gospel ' ? If he had cast aside his work and lapsed
into lazy ways and gone into easy quarters, would he
have been happy ? Woe is me if I do not minister to
those in anguish. Have you seen a little skiff when
the wind fills the sail, and away it goes, cutting the
water? It seems inspired with a life it knew not
when rocking listlessly, moored to the quay. So it
is with me ; a breath, a wind of love swells my heart
and carries me forward. I cannot help myself, I
must go on."

The girls walked on side by side in silence for
some way. Presently Joan said —

" My sister was speaking to me, not half an hour
ago, about becoming a nurse. She wished it, but I
myself do not consider that she has any real call to,
or aptitude for the life."

" It is with the nurse as with the priest," said Julie.
" There are many quite qualified to do the hack work
of the profession ; but then, the nurse and the priest
with a vocation, that is something other, it is a soul-
absorbing, life-consuming passion, the passion of pity.
If your sister be a strong, brave girl, if she has a

68 THE FROBISHERS

sunny spirit, by all means let her go into the hospital
wards. But to be a real nurse she must be a sister
in heart, a sister to everyone whose nerves are wrung ;
she must weep with those who weep, and her heart
must bleed with those who bleed."

" How can you be happy in such a life ? "

" Happy ! "

Julie turned her face on Joan, and the sunshine
seemed to be in it.

" I remember," said the nurse, " reading a story of
St. Patrick. He had been a slave boy keeping swine
in the oak woods of Ulster in cold and nakedness.
He ran away, and managed to get to France; but
always he seemed to hear the cry of the little slave
boys in Ireland calling to him, * Come over and help
us.' "

They had reached that point whence the house
appeared in sight. Julie turned abruptly and
said —

" I must go back to my mother. I am not often
with her now, and when I am, I do not like to leave
her side."

" I will retrace the way with you," said Joan.

Both turned.

" You have met my brother, I hear," said Julie.

"Yes. How does he approve of your being a
nurse ? "

"Not at all. Our dear father had some old-
fashioned English prejudices which he retained in

JULIE 69

the New World. Although he himself was com-
pelled by circumstances to be in business, yet he
never took to it with zest, and he was firmly resolved
that Hector should not — as he termed it — soil his
hands with trade. So he sent him to Eton, provided
him with money, and brought him up to be, what he
is, a light-hearted, gracious young man, of blameless
life, and living for his pleasures. But one is not
compelled to fashion one's life to suit a brother's
fancies. I chose my own line. I could not do other.
I find no fault with Hector; he did not hear that
woman's moans. You cannot answer a call till you
have been called."

Again they proceeded in silence. Presently Julie
said —

"You must be sad at heart leaving this beautiful
place, where you have been so happy."

" Yes, I am sorry."

Then neither spoke for a while.

"I am sorry especially," said Joan, "that I
shall not now have the chance of seeing more of
you."

" But," answered Julie, " I shall not be here. My
home and my work are where things are not
smooth and cheerful, but in a world of woes and
tears."

" If" — said Joan, and ceased.

" What would you say ? "

"If," she recommenced, thus encouraged, "If at

THE FROBISHERS

any time I should cry out to you, * Come over and
help me I * will you come ? "

" I give you my word."

''I shall hold you to it!" And the girls clasped
hands.

CHAPTER VIII

A CHANGE OF AIR

NIGHT had fallen, although the hour was but
six. The sky was obscure ; the line where it
ended and the horizon began was smurched with
lurid flames from furnace chimneys, and punctured
with gas lights from windows. Here and there a
disregarded heap of cinders and small coal glowed,
sent forth flickers and smoked. Here and there a
steam puff trailed athwart the black heavens,
partially illumined from below. Here and there
flashed green and red and orange lamps.

Joan descended from a train on the North Stafford-
shire line, that crept from station to station, sown at
such short intervals that the engine was unable to get
up pace between them.

Little expense had been incurred to make the
station beautiful or commodious. It consisted of
nothing other than two long sheds and a high-
spanned covered footway from one platform to the
other; and seemed designed mainly for the exhibi-
tion of advertisements of teas, baking powders, and
soaps on its long, protracted boardings.

72 THE FROBISHERS

Joan issued from the station, having delivered up
her ticket, and stood outside on the causeway of
indented tiles. No cab was stationed there to
invite a fare, no hotel 'bus was in readiness.

She had with her but a Gladstone bag.

Halting on the pavement, holding her bag, she
looked along a road deep in mud, with sparse gas
lamps reflecting themselves in puddles.

A few houses, stragglers from the town stretching
towards the station, coal and timber and clay yards,
a mean public-house, a waggon shed — these were all
that were revealed by the artificial light.

There was no distant glow thrown up upon the
clouds to indicate the presence of a great town. No
great towers and spires visible from the station
looming up against the flaring furnace lips and fire
tongues, showing where was the nucleus of this busy
neighbourhood.

A ragged urchin came up.

" Carry your luggage, miss ? "

" How far is it into the town ? "

" It's all town. What part do you want to go to ? "

« The Griffin Hotel."

** All right you are. A mile and an *arf, but there's
the electric tram."

" But where is the tram ? "

" Take you to it for twopence and carry yer bag."

" Very well. You shall have the twopence. How
far?"

A CHANGE OF AIR 73

" Take yer two minutes."

The boy shouldered the bag and slouched away.
Presently he turned his head and said —

" The tram '11 take you right past the Griffin. Tell
the chap as has yer penny to set yer down there.
You'll do it bloomin* cheap, yer will, owin* to me.
Threepence. If yer'd had a cab as I see'd yer
squintin' about arter, it would a cost yer a bob, and
the cabby 'ud a cussed and swore at yer if yer hadn't
put on another sixpence, seein' yer to be an unpro-
tected female and a stranger, and the time — night."

He led Joan to a three-cornered paved place where
a road came into that from the station, and where she
saw the line of rails, and by the side poles with
insulators and wires.

In the midst stood a lamp-post with a flickering gas
jet in it The glass was cracked and a chip was out,
allowing the wind to rush in and wanton with the flame.

" You're a bag-woman, for 'ere's yer bag," said the
boy, planting Joan's luggage under the lamp and
seating himself upon it. " But are yer a professional
commercial traveller ? "

" No, I am not quite that."

" Nobody comes 'ere but commercials. I don't see
why the manerer-fact'rin' bosses don't employ young
wimen to trot about with their samples. Slowed if I
don't think they'd be more persuadin' by long chalks
than the men — they would be with me, if good-lookin',
as you are."

74 THE FROBISHERS

"You monkey," said Joan, laughing — to be
addressed in this off-hand, familiar tone by a dirty
street arab was to her a new experience — "You
monkey! I suppose you expect another penny for
the compliment you have paid me."

'* Shouldn't object ; and I'll throw yer in my blessin'
free, gratis, and for nothin'. I wish yer all 'appiness,
and luck whatever yer takes in 'and. I couldn't do
it more 'andsome. Here you are with your tram.
Jump in with all yer legs, and I'll chuck the bag
arter you. Driver, set my gal down at the Griffin,
don't forget, or I'll withdraw my patronage."

In the tram were but two persons : a gentleman
with dark moustache, bushy dark hair, and restless
eyes ; the other a young and pretty girl. As Joan
saw at a glance, he was annoying her with his
attentions. She was a modest and reserved girl,
and looked with evident relief at Joan as she entered.
Joan grasped the situation a moment after she had
seated herself, and then changed her place and
planted herself deliberately between the man and
the girl he was persecuting. She looked him
straight in the face, and he, muttering some remark
that she did not catch, drew away.

In about ten minutes Joan descended from the
car, when at once the girl followed her, and with a
smile said, " I thank you."

Joan then went into an inn that was reputed to be
the best in the place, but which made no efforts to

A CHANGE OF AIR 75

assert its superiority to others, and to pretend to be
of first or even second class order. She entered a
narrow passage with the bar on one side and the
" Commercial Room " on the other, and inhaled an
atmosphere strongly impregnated with spirits. She
looked about her with a feeling of bewilderment for
someone to whom she might apply for accommodation.

The barmaid was conversing with a party of
commercials in the inner apartment, whence flowed
fumes of whisky and tobacco, and issued the clink of
spoons in tumblers. She either did not notice the
arrival of Joan, or did not consider it worth her while
to attend to a mere woman, till she had satisfied all
the requirements of the gentlemen in the inner
snuggery. Presently she sauntered to the bar with
careless indifference of manner, and looked coldly
at Joan, then turned her head to respond to some
sally from a lively bag-man, and only at last asked
superciliously —

" May it please ? " —

It was too much trouble to complete the question.
Joan, however, readily supplied the answer.

" I shall be glad of a bedroom."

The superior young person rang a bell, and a
chambermaid responded.

" Selina, number thirteen ! "

Then she sped back to that bosom of conviviality,
the inner bar.

The maid took Joan's bag and led the way up-

y6 THE FROBISHERS

stairs to a small, clean bedroom, looked into the jug,
and satisfied herself that there was water therein —
probably of two days' standing, to judge by the film
covering it, lighted a candle, and departed. The idea
that hot water might be of advantage did not occur
to her. However, after having left the room, she put
in her head again and asked —

" A commercial ? "

"I have not that honour," replied Joan, and the
girl withdrew with a face that showed that Joan, by
her disclaimer, had forfeited the sole claim she could
have advanced to be treated with respect

When Joan descended, after having washed her
face and hands, opened her bag, and arranged her
hair, she again stood in hesitation whither to go,
when the maid said —

" Into the Commercial Room, if you please ; there's
no other sitting-room with a fire. I don't fancy
there'll be any gentlemen come in, unless they be
teetotallers."

" I should like some dinner," said Joan. " At what
hour do you dine ? "

"Dinner! Lord keep you! We dine at one
o'clock; then's the ordinary."

" Well, call it supper. Can I have some ? "

" Certainly ; anything you please to command."

" Oh, I do not require much ; I would leave it to
you."

" Then I daresay we could manage a chop."

A CHANGE OF AIR 77

Joan seated herself by the fire, put her feet on the
fender, looked among the glowing coals, and fell into
a dream.

After the deference to which she had hitherto been
treated, not only by the servants at Pendabury, but
by the villagers, by the entire neighbourhood, by the
tradesmen and shopkeepers of Lichfield, this was a
strange experience. It did not offend her, it amused
her. With her clear good sense she was aware that
she could not expect the treatment in a strange
place to which she had been accustomed at home,
and that in her altered circumstances she must
expect new surroundings and an altered tone of
address.

She was left undisturbed for half an hour, and then
the girl came in to lay the cloth at one end of the
table.

About the same time a large -built commercial
traveller entered, a man with a profusion of dark
hair, with shaven cheeks, but a ring of moustache
and beard left encircling his mouth. He seated
himself at the table and ; expanded to fill up the
entire extremity, and planted his broad fat hands
upon his sturdy knees spread wide apart.

" Now then, Jenny," said he to the maid, ** I want
supper. Fve been tootling about all day and have
had no time to pick up more than a couple of sand-
wiches. What can you do for me, my lass? I'm
famished as an ogre."

78 THE FROBISHERS

" Anything you please to ask for," responded the
maid.

"Well, then, get me mulligatawny soup, a fried
sole, and a little shoulder of mutton with onion sauce.
For sweets " —

" Lord bless you, sir, it is past seven o'clock. I
don't think it could be done. There's no fish — but
we might do you a chop."

" And for sweets ? "

"I daresay we could manage some bread and
marmalade. What will you have to drink?"

" Two whiskies and a large soda."

" This lady is going to have the same," observed
the girl.

Joan glanced up, shocked.

" Not the whiskies, please. I will take tea."

The bag-man looked hard at Joan, and asked in a
courteous tone —

" I beg pardon, but are you travelling for any firm ?
I am in the hardware."

" I — oh dear no ! That is the third time I have
been asked the same question within an hour."

" No wonder. No one comes to this place except
on business. There is nothing to be seen, to attract
visitors. It leads to nowhere but to coal and marl
pits. I am heartily glad to hear, mem, that you are
not in the commercial line. The females are cutting
us out everywhere, invading every business, storming
every profession. There will be nothing left us men

A CHANGE OF AIR 79

to do presently but manual labour. Our branch has
hitherto remained sacred, but for how long? In
Shakespeare's days no woman was on the stage, and
now women delight in taking breeches parts. It is a
complaint made by the men in these potteries — the
women are rolling up the carpet from under their
feet. If they would remain at home and mind their
houses and children and cook the meals, it would be
the best for all; but no, they will go into the pot-
banks and ruin the men. Female competition lowers
the wages. If they would stick to home, the wages
of the men would be higher, and the families would
be in every way better off."

He would have talked further, never disrespectful,
but inclined to be rather more familiar than Joan
cared for in a casual acquaintance of the class.

Her supper, consisting of tea and chops, now made
its appearance, and as she showed no wish to pursue
the conversation, the traveller retired to the bar till
his meal was ready. Two small chops were displayed,
when a metal cover was lifted, that had not been
brightened since it left the shop where purchased;
they consisted of much fat and little lean, and this
latter underdone. No potatoes were introduced, but
a stand of cruets was placed within Joan's reach. It
contained a phial of Yorkshire relish with a bit out of
the neck, and the contents, very cloudy, had certainly
long ago lost all the relish the makers had given it ;
a mustard pot with a thick discoloured crust and

8o THE FROBISHERS

dabs of the condiment on the side, also oil and
pepper.

Joan's supper was hardly ended before the gentle-
man in the hardware line came in, simultaneously
with the chops he had commanded. Joan then put
on her cloak and hat, and took her umbrella, to sally
forth for a strolL She was tired, for she had had a
trying day, but she was not desirous of being drawn
into more intimate discourse with the traveller, and
she was curious to see something of the place to
which she had come, in its night aspect.

The street was alive with people — full of anima-
tion. The shops were doing a good business,
especially those of the greengrocers and butchers.
Young women clustered about the drapers', dress-
makers', and milliners' windows, discussing and eyeing
the finery displayed.

A party of three girls, arm in arm, swept down
the causeway laughing boisterously, and shouting
jokes at the young men that passed, and who
retaliated in the same vein. Then a band of the
Salvation Army made its presence known playing a
frolicsome strain, and halted at a comer, where a man
addressed those on their way up and down the
street, without, however, arresting their attention.
The chorus of Hallelujah lasses and lanky, cada-
verous-faced soldiers next brayed out a hymn of
the most sacred and solemn import, whereupon the
children who had congregated round roared out a

A CHANGE OF AIR 8i

ribald chorus in parody of the words of the
hymn.

Joan hurried past, her gorge rising with disgust,
and saw a Raring gas jet above a stall spread with
almond rock, barley sugar, and peppermint sticks,
the latter composed of twisted strands of rainbow
hues. Around this many boys were assembled,
gfreedily eyeing the delicacies.

Joan halted to examine their faces — some clean,
but others very grimy — when one urchin looked up
at her, laughed, and winking, said —

" That's my gal, as guv me threepence. Twopence
for carryin' her bag and one penny for personal
complerment. I say, I'm enj'yin' myself amazin'
out of them pennies ; that I am, just about. Look
'ere." He held up a stick of peppermint and broke
it in half with his dirty hands. " I say ! *ave an 'arf ?
I give it you with all my *eart, for a liberal young
female you be. Take it."

"You are very good," said Joan, with a natural
shrinking. " I will not deprive you of it."

" Oh, take it and welcome. It'll make it all the
sweeter to me to share with you. Don't say you're
too proud, and make a chap blush for your bad
manners."

"I am not too proud," said Joan, smiling, and
taking the proffered bit of sweetstuff. It was very
sticky, and the boy found some difficulty in dis-
engaging his fingers from it.
6

82 THE FROBISHERS

" Now look 'ere. Clap it into yer mouth, and let
me see yer suck and enj'y it."

And Joan did as desired.

" You're a good unV said the imp.

Then he suffered her to proceed.

A rapid turn in the street brought her into a
throng of a different sort, composed of interested
spectators gathered in a ring about a woman
prostrate on the gfround, whilst another vociferated
in coarse and strident tones, and gesticulated
excitedly, by her brogue clearly an Irishwoman.

"The loidy gave me a black oie. Bedad, you
wouldn't have me stand that, would you? So I
gave the loidy back what she gave me, and wid
interest. There she loies. You may pick her up
riow and teach her 'ow to address a loidy another
time."

Joan worked her way energetically through the
crowd ; such a spectacle, which afforded absorbing
interest to others, revolted her as greatly as the
holy profanities of the Salvation Army.

She reached the highest point in the street — came
out upon a square, or open area, irregularly shaped,
from which radiated narrow streets, diving downhill,
and becoming apparently dirtier and more shabby as
they led away from the centre.

From the point where she stood she could look
over ranges of small houses — as she judged by the
lights from their windows, and above them wavered

A CHANGE OF AIR

and flared the streamers of fire from the furnaces in
full blast.

She stood a moment looking, observing, wondering.

Then she returned to her inn, took her candle, and
retired to bed.

Long into the night sounded the' tramp of feet and
the clatter of tongues in the street, broken now and
then by the shouts of men and women quarrelling, by
the disjointed strains of tipsy men in song, by the
screams of bold girls, by the grind when the electric
tram passed, and by the tolling of its warning bell.
Verily Joan was in a world undreamt of by her at
Pendabury, and in an atmosphere wholly new to her
experience.

CHAPTER IX

POLLY MY ATT

ON the following morning, having had her break-
fast, Joan Frobisher left the Griffin, with the
purpose of finding a cottage which she could rent for
herself and her sister.

After much consideration, she had come to North
Staffordshire, to the pottery district, in the hopes of
obtaining employment as an artist on china. She
was skilful with* her pencil and brush, and she had
attempted painting on biscuit china, which had been
subsequently fired. Some of her achievements in
this department had furnished stalls at bazaars, and
had even sold.

It was a moot point with her, whether to obtain
employment first and take lodgings after, or to look
out for and secure a house previous to making
application for work. She had turned the alternatives
over in her mind, and had resolved on first finding
suitable quarters. Should she obtain a place in a
workshop for porcelain painting, she would desire
at once to enter on it, and not be then put to the
difficulty of securing a habitation.

POLLY MYATT 85

The pottery district in North Staffordshire forms a
belt of seven miles in length, nowhere exceeding two
in breadth ; beginning with Tunstall and ending with
Longton, and running from north-west to south-east.

In addition to the two places above named, it com-
prehends as well Burslem, Hanley, and Stoke. It
consists, in fact, of certain centres of shops and public
buildings, with intervening tracts of streets, collieries,
factories, and furnaces, and occasional intervening
fields. The streets are composed of thoroughfares
between dingy cottages, with volumes of smoke
rolling over and frequently enveloping them. The
pottery ovens rise hardly higher than the ridges of
the roofs of the houses, and when they are heated,
and there is some wind, then, during the forty or
sixty hours of firing, the houses to leeward are
involved in coils of smoke that fill every crevice
with grime.

Fortunately the pottery district lies high, between
five and six hundred feet above the sea, and catches
every wind. This prevents the burden of coal smoke
from hanging over the region in black or brown fog
as in London. But it is a cheerless district, where the
eyes have no objects to rest upon that produce delight.
The public buildings are as though moulded out of
soot, and smuts hang from their cornices as a fringe.
Such trees as exist have trunks of ebony, the sheep
in the pastures bear blackened fleeces, such leaves
and flowers as grow— they do not flourish — soil the

86 THE FROBISHERS

fingers that pluck them. The sky is never wholly
blue, the water never crystal clear, the earth is heaped
with refuse, the very air is never uncontaminated.

Only at night, when the banners of flame flaunt
in the sky, and ten thousand lights sparkle in the
habitations of men, does the country assume some
pretence of picturesqueness ; but then it is the
picturesqueness of an Inferno. If the belt consisted
of potteries alone, its dinginess would not be so
considerable, but it is bordered with collieries and
foundries, and tile and brick works.

Joan walked about the town, past row after row of
low dwelling-houses, and noticed that they were all
constructed on one pattern — at the most slightly
varied. They presented to the street a face in which
opened a door, with one window beside it, and in the
upper storey two windows, one of which was above
the door. Not a house had more than ground floor
and one storey over it. None had attics above, nor
gardens before them. The only attempt at these
latter were facing the houses of the parson and
doctor, and in each case was a failure, nothing
showing therein save naked soil, or at best mangy
turf.

Joan found that there were houses more com-
modious in the suburbs, also small, and, as far as
she could judge, possessing the advantage of a lobby
into which the front door opened, instead of opening
immediately into the kitchen. These houses were

POLLY MY ATT 87

new, and had been secured and entered into so soon
as mason and plasterer had turned out.

The streets formed by these new habitations had
not been paved as yet ; the ruts remained formed by
the waggons that had brought the bricks of which
the houses were made, and the clayey soil, churned
by the feet of the horses, was resolved into adhesive
mud.

Joan passed huge marl pits of vast depth and
circumference, craters out of which the clay had
been drawn for the making of the coarser pottery
for drain pipes and chimney pots. Beyond this
region she got among collieries and furnaces, and
consequently turned back.

The streets were well-nigh deserted. No business
whatever was being transacted in the shops. Vans
lumbered by conveying cases laden with earthen-
ware, that was being taken to the railway; or
waggons ascended from the canal charged with
china-clay brought by water from Cornwall.

The electric tram travelled, but the car was occupied
by only a stray commercial traveller. No young
people were about, save the children swarming in
the playground of the school, and a prodigy of piety,
a converted boy of fourteen, who stood before a chapel
admiring a poster twice as tall as himself, that
announced he was to preach and conduct a revival
on the ensuing Sabbath.

Joan gravely questioned whether it would be safe

88 THE FROBISHERS

ta venture on one of the bran-new houses only com-
pleted at Michaelmas. No such scruple seemed to
have occurred to the minds of others, or hard necessity
had driven them to risk health and life; for almost
every new house was already occupied. One, indeed,
she noticed with a dab of whitewash on the window
pane, indicating that it was but just out of the trades-
men's hands. She ventured to the glass of the bay
window and looked into the room, and saw the new
plastered wall exuding drops, which here and there
had run together and trickled down, leaving trails
like snail-tracks.

Reluctantly she turned back from these more
attractive houses, and entered the town itself, and
wandered up and down its many streets, all stricken
with the same monotony and the same meanness,
only relieved by the long walls of some great
pottery.

At last she saw a comer house, that was untenanted,
and bore the ungrammatical notice in the window —
" To let Inquire next door."

The house was humble, but not out of repair, and
certainly did not contain many rooms. After slight
hesitation Joan tapped at the door of the adjoining
cottage.

A girl opened, and before addressing her looked
her critically up and down.

"What do you want here?" she asked pre-
sently.

POLLY MYATT 89

" The house next door is to be let. It is my wish
to look over it. Have you the key ? "

" Yes, I have. It is just a fellow to this house, only
that it is turned t'other way on. Our door is on the
left hand and the window beyond that, and in No. 16
it is right hand — that's the difference."

" But you will allow me to step within, will you
not ? "

" Who are you ? "

" My name is Frobisher, and I am on the lookout
for a small house for my sister and myself. As you
see, I am in mourning. We have recently lost our
father."

" Is your mother alive ? "

" No ; she has been dead these many years. We
are left badly off, and shall have to work for our
livelihood."

" What are you going to do ? Take in needlework
or trim bonnets? You look like a dressmaker.
There's a living to be picked up that way. The girls
here dress a lot."

" I cannot say what my sister may do, but I, for
my part, intend to go into a pottery."

" Pottery ! — potbank you mean. Come in, and sit
you down. We'll talk a bit. What makes you think
of going into a potbank ? "

" I can paint flowers."

" Oh, on paper, maybe. It's another trick on pots."

" But I really have done a little that way."

90 THE FROBISHERS

" Now look here," said the girl — " there, take a seat.
Was your father a Staffordshire potter?"

" No ; he was a Staffordshire man, but he lived at
some distance from this."

" Then it's no good your thinking of it. We have
been brought up to it from babies. They do tell
there have been potbanks here for hundreds of years,
and our people been at it for generations; and the
little ones take to it naturally, as ducks to water and
cats to milk. But for a stranger " — ^she shrugged her
shoulders and gave a contemptuous sniff — " you'd
best turn to dressmaking."

Joan looked at the girl ; she had red hair, was
deadly pale, with ashen lips, and her right hand was
paralysed.

" You are not well, I fear," said she gently.

" I — I'm poisoned."

" Poisoned ? "

" Ay, with the lead."

"How so?"

The girl looked hard at Joan.

"You're as green as a Whitsuntide gooseberry,"
she said. " I've been a ground-layer — that's how it
came about. In time we are all poisoned. Look
at my hand. It was like yours once, but it has
dropped at the wrist, and I can't work with it any
more. So it's up with me."

" I do not yet understand."

" Well, you are soft not to know that. There's

POLLY MYATT 91

lead in the dust, lead in the glost, and the lead gets
into us through the eyes and ears and nostrils and
the pores of the body ; it gets into your hair ; it gets
into the lungs and into the blood, that turns to
goulard water, and then you have the colic and are
crippled with the palsy, and sometimes you die of it."

Joan looked at her with eyes dilated with horror.

" But all are not so ? "

" Oh no, not all — only the ground-layers and the
dippers. But then there be towers — they get the
potter's asthma."

"Is there nothing to be done for you? Cannot
the doctor put you to rights ? "

" Me ! — never get my hand to work — never. But
for the rest, to drive the lead out of you, some say
suck lemons.^ Lemons cost a penny a piece, and it
would take five or six to make a good squash. How
can I afford a couple of squashes in a day? Then
others tell— drink no end of ale and get boozy on it,
and it'll clear away the lead. That's what the men
say as an excuse for becoming fuddled. I fipd it's
not only the dippers that take too much beer.
Others say take a pint of raw milk morning and
evening. A pint of raw milk ! Why, that's as much
as supplies a dozen houses for their tea. And where
am I to get real genuine raw milk from — a quart a

^ It is a delusion to suppose that lemons are of use against plumbism.
What is effectual is sulphuric acid, diluted. This forms with lead an
insoluble salt, which is carried out of the system.

THE FROBISHERS

day ? It's got wonderful like sky-blue, the milk has,
when it comes to our street So— do you want to
see No. i6? Come along then — I've got the
key."

'' I do wish to look at the house, for indeed I
believe I shall take it Will you mind my asking
what is your name?"

" Me !— I'm Miss Myatt."

Joan smiled.

" What are you a-larfing at ? " asked the pale girl,
suspiciously and angrily.

" I am smiling to think of us two being next-door
neighbours, and seeing one another every day, and
being Miss Frobisher and Miss Myatt to one another."

" Get along, then. I'm Polly Myatt, and what be
you ? "

" I am Joan Frobisher."

"All right. Here's the key. Hope we shall be
neighbours. I like you, though I can see with half
an eye as you are not one of us."

CHAPTER X

LEAD

" T 'LL let you in," said Polly Myatt

-*• She led the way to the adjoining house,
turned the key, and threw the door open.

" We just keep the key hard by to save trouble,"
she said. "But you must apply to Butcher & Co.
for terms and take. This is an end house, and there
was a bit of space not to be had for the others, so
they gave a passage with a stair in it But you'll
have to pay extra for that — I bet my bones, old
Butcher will frank you if he can."

Joan went over the little house. It needed white-
washing and fresh papering in the parlour or front
kitchen, but when furnished it would serve.

" I shall take it," she said.

"Well, Fm glad to have you come by us," said
Polly. " Now you'll be wanting beds and chairs and
other sticks. Shall you go on the hire system or buy
right out ? "

" I shall buy."

" It is best in the end. I've nothing partic'lar to

94 THE FROBISHERS

do, so ril go with you and show you where you can
buy cheap. How much brass shall you spend ? "

" At the outset no more than is absolutely neces-
sary. I can add more furniture after I have found
work."

"That's right — come now along with me into
No. 17 and take a snapping. IVe got the kettle on
the hob, but I ain't got no milk."

" I shall be happy, and much obliged to you."

" Oh, there's no call for that You'll have to pay
Butcher & Co. a month in advance. They are not
trusting innocents."

Joan followed her new acquaintance into No. 17.

Along with freedom of speech and bluntness of
manner, there was no little kindliness in the pale,
red-haired girl. If the difference in the way in
which she was addressed and treated startled Joan,
it did not disconcert her. She knew that the
manner in which she would be treated must be in
accordance with that in which she met little advances
made to her, and answered such as questioned her.
She was wholly prepared to do her utmost to gain
the good opinion of those with whom she was likely
to be associated. There was a crispness in the social
atmosphere that she felt was stimulating, and there
was the novelty of new acquaintanceship that was
interesting.

" Now you just turn this over. A hint is as good
as a blow to a wise horse. If I was you and loved a

LEAD 95

quiet sleep and pleasant dreams, I would not take
the front bedroom over the passage. There's a four
and half brick and no more between that room and
the chamber mother and father have in our house.
You see father has the ovens to fire, and it's hot and
trying work, tending the fires. It's not always, but
just off and on, that father comes home the worse for
liquor. He's lively then, and mother she lays on
with her tongue, and he answers, and there's pretty
games I can tell you. Well — it's p'r'aps amusing for
the first hour, but you get stalled the second, and the
third you'll be swearing at 'em through the four and
half wall. Father's a tidy old chap in general. But
we've all our little failings, and that's just what makes
the difference between us and the angels."

'' I cannot understand," said Joan, as she sat over
the fire sipping tea, that was mainly tannin, so long
had the pot been stewing on the hob, " I cannot
understand why you are allowed to poison yourself.
The manufacturers should not suffer it"

" Bless your boots ! the thing has to be done, and
someone must do it The public will have their
ware glazed and coloured, and there is now quite a
run on majolica, which is worse than all. We must
find them what they demand. If we do not the
Germans will do so."

"But are not means taken to prevent these
consequences ? "

" They do what they can, but they can't do every-

96 THE FROBISHERS

thing. In the little potbank it is worse than in
those that are big. At Fenning's they have fans to
carry off the dust, and they do tell me that the
Government are going to insist there shall be fans
everywhere. But even with fans, all is not swept
away. Nigh on half of those who do the painting
and gilding and ground -laying are short-sighted.
We begin as kids, and with looking close at what
is under our noses, it makes our eyes come so.
You'll see — a lot have to wear spectacles, but a girl
won't wear them unless she's forced to it Well,
that means that those who are ground-laying lean
over their work, and so they get the lead into them.
There are respirators. But if you breathe through
them all day it is like to bring on asthma. Then we
are a careless lot. They are making a fuss now
about our taking our meals in the workrooms — that
is what we always used to do — and in the little pot-
banks I don't see how they can do any other. It
isn't everywhere you can have a separate room in
which the girls can get their breakfast and tea — and
of course by right we should always wash our hands
before eating. But some are so daring and so
thoughtless, that I've known one girl as licked her
hand, that was blue with dust, just out of display of
bravery."

" This ought not to be allowed."

" Bless your life ! you must have nurses to attend
on everyone, and see that they keep to the regula-

LEAD 97

tions. We don't want to have that — no thank
you."

" But what is this ground-laying, as you term it ? "

" I'll tell you what it is. Say you have a bit of
ware — a cup, or a saucer, or a vase, or a teapot — to
cover with colour, all over, or, maybe, all but where
there are to be flowers in gold or other colour. Well,
then, we paint in the pattern first in treacle and
water, and then cover all with the oil or medium.
So soon as this is done, with cotton wool we take
up powder-paint and dab it all over the surface, till
it is completely and evenly covered. And it is in
doing this that the dust flies. There is lead in the
powder to fix the colours. When all is covered,
then the pot is fired — and the flowers come out
white, but the ground is fast. Then next the
flowers and sprays are painted in. Do you see?"

" Yes," answered Joan. " I can understand. The
colour dust is an impalpable powder, and is applied
by means of cotton wool. In so doing, much
becomes detached, floats in the air, and by this
means is absorbed."

" That is just it. They are now trying a plate of
glass between the work and your eyes, but Lord love
your bones! one can't manage with that for long.
The dust lies on the glass so that we cannot see
what we are doing, and if we wipe it there is a
smear; and if you're doing piece-work, you can't
spare the time to clear the plate of glass, and you
7

100 THE FROBISHERS

even if I get over the lead in my blood. Some say
that I ought to go right away and have fresh air and
country runs, and plenty of milk and eggs. But
Lord love your bones ! how is that to come about ?
And a pretty lump Td remain with one hand good
for nothing."

Joan studied the fire, and Polly noticed distress in
her face.

"There," said she, "it can't be helped. We're
born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards; that's
Scripture. Now about yourself. You want to get
into the works, do you ? "

" I do indeed, Polly. I must do something to earn
my livelihood, and I cast about, and could think of
no better way than this."

" You'll not find it so easy as you suppose. You're
too old, for one thing. Our girls begin very young.
You'll have to be apprenticed and receive a small
wage for the first few months. A young girl, till she
is seventeen, pays half her earnings, and then one-
third till the last year. Or, look here, every pattern
is priced, so much painting or gilding. Work done
in the week is entered in the workers' book and
reckoned up to indicate wage to be received. But
so long as you're an apprentice, so much is deducted
from the wage. If, for instance, a half-price apprentice
earns ten shillings, five shillings will be taken off;
when it's fourpence, there'll be six-and-eight ; and
twopence, there'll be eight-and-four. Unless you have

LEAD

lOI

some money of your own to help you, you will not
be able to live on what you earn till you are out of
your apprenticeship."

'* Well, I shall have to draw on that which I have.
Can I get into the bank ? "

" If you have some money, that's made the matter
easier. Til see you through, I will, I will indeed."

CHAPTER XI

MY PAL

IT afforded sensible delight to Polly Myatt to be
allowed to assist Joan in the furnishing of No. i6,
after it had undergone preliminary whitewashing.
She bustled in and out, and, so far as her strength
permitted, helped in the arrangement of the articles
sent from the shops. The energy of her mind
was out of all proportion to the capacity of her
body.

Joan's ideas of what were necessary transcended
those of Polly, who deemed it incumbent on her to
check her friend's tendency to too lavish expenditure.
But indeed. No. i6 was supplied with only what was
necessary, though Joan and Polly differed somewhat
occasionally as to what constituted necessaries.
Joan hankered after a carpet for the little parlour,
but Polly would not hear of such extravagance.
She had taken the idea into her head that Joan was
in extremely reduced circumstances, and that it was
her duty to restrain Joan's outlay. A cocoa-nut fibre
matting was finally determined on as a compromise.

102

MY PAL 103

No difference of opinion manifested itself as to the
absolute and supreme necessity for looking-glasses.

The daily work in the potteries, exacting cleanli-
ness in person and in manipulation, has induced
those engaged therein to be scrupulous about having
their houses neat.

The home of the Myatts was no exception.
Although in it no article was new, yet everything
was kept in order and was clean, save only from the
all-pervading and unavoidable grime of the ingrained
soot. To see the adjoining habitation fresh with
limewash, and stuffed with articles new from the
shops, afforded Polly a pleasure that found expression
in repeated bursts of laughter. By Joan's readily
granted permission she was enabled to bring in her
father and mother to contemplate and admire what
was partly the achievement of their daughter.

The ^ydXtpire was a man employed on firing the
ovens, and the duty held him often occupied through-
out the night. It is a duty very responsible, as on
the proper maintenance of the heat and its intensity
depends the result of a whole oven's packing. An
oven for biscuit china has to be fired for sixty hours,
one for glost, or glazing, for forty.

He was a strongly built man, with a thick black
"Newgate collar" under his shaven chin, and with
a bald head between two bushes of hair above the
ears. His wife was a washed-out woman with faded
eyes and pallid complexion, who appeared to have

104 THE FROBISHERS

had everything boiled out of her except temper, and
to have lost all power except that of giving tongue ;
and that was evidenced by the crows' feet about her
mouth and the twitch of her vixenish lips.

The man, on the other hand, bore the appearance
of being heavy and placable. Both regarded Joan
Frobisher with covert suspicion. They readily
detected that she belonged to a class superior to
their own, and had ideas of a different order to theirs.
This mistrust rendered them awkward in her presence.
But Polly partook of none of this. She regarded
herself as a patroness, to whom Joan owed her
introduction to No. i6 and to the cheap dealers in
furniture, and to whom a moderating influence was
due, that had delivered Joan from extravagant
expenditure.

Among those occupying the street, who manifested
considerable interest in the proceedings in the comer
house, as with her own people, Polly was a stout
champion to her friend.

All the inhabitants of the thoroughfare were
acquaintances of Polly, and into intercourse with
them all Joan was drawn by her companion. She
was soon on speaking terms with every inhabitant
of her own sex, and with some of the other as well.
Although aware that she was observed critically and
with some dubitation, she encountered no unfriendli-
ness from the women or lack of respect from the
men.

MY PAL 105

At night, when Joan lay on her bed, all alone for
the first time in her life in a strange house, she was
able leisurely to consider her new surroundings, and
gauge her own capacity for accommodating herself to
them.

There was much that met her eyes and ears wholly
unfamiliar, and some things jarred with her high-
strung refinement

The town was sordid, the streets shabby, the
houses very small. So far as she was able to judge,
it was not inhabited by any gentlefolk, as she under-
stood the term, except by a parson or two and a few
medical men, and possibly by a lawyer.

Those who lived in the best houses — houses of
more than a ground floor and one upper storey, and
who had a room on each side of the front door, were
also those who worked least, the better-class shop-
keepers, such as did not live above their shops. But
of these there were few. As to the owners of the
tile-yards, the potbanks, and the collieries, they had
mansions far away in the country, among trees and
flowers, and went to their business by train.

Living where she had chosen to live, living in the
manner she had elected, and among such as neces-
sarily must be her daily associates, she would be as
absolutely cut off from the society of those of the
class to which she belonged by birth and culture as
if she had been wrecked on a South Sea island,
peopled only with dusky natives.

io6 THE FROBISHERS

Perhaps one of those elements most difficult to
which to accommodate the taste is dialect But some
dialects are vulgar and repugnant to the refined ear,
and others are not so. To this latter class is the
common speech of Staffordshire. It is singularly
pure. It bears a Northern intonation that is pleasing
and never grates, and possesses none of those
elements of defective or distorted pronunciation that
characterise the vocalisation of a Cockney.

Joan had already noticed, as regards the external
appearance of the people, that dark hair prevailed,
and that those employed in the potworks were
curiously short in their lower limbs. This was
probably due to sedentary habits from an early age.
They might have long backs, but their legs were
disproportionate.

Joan, with cool, clear sense reviewing all that had
come under her observation, was well aware that she
would be deprived of a thousand things that she
would miss, and which hitherto she had considered
indispensable. But she saw with equal distinctness
that by the change she would no^ be the loser.
Hitherto, she had known nothing of that part of
humanity which earns its daily bread, save only
what she had seen of the sleepy rustics about Penda-
bury, and these she viewed from a towering height,
which had rendered her incapable of understanding
them as they understood one another.

Now she was about to become a worker among

MY PAL 107

working people, and she foresaw that the study of
the class into which she had entered was such as
would prove of engrossing interest. One fact had
already impressed itself deeply on her — that human
nature was much the same in every class. As some
little act of kindness, some token of delicate courtesy,
was done or shown, there swelled in her heart a
thought of grateful surprise — and the words of the
sacred text recurred to her reiteratedly —

" He hath made of one blood all . , . men for to
dwell on all the face of the earth."

" Polly," said Joan, " I am ready to start in quest
of a situation. The house is in order, and I must
now see to getting work."

" Where do you think of trying ? "

" I shall go from one potbank to another ; I shall
try great and small. It will be strange if I do not
find a gap into which to step."

" I will go with you. Try Fenning's. That's where
I worked, and there they know me. Father is there
as well, but mother is at Popplewood's."

" It is the same to me where I begin, but I should
naturally like to be where you are known and
esteemed, Polly. Your good word would go a long
way in making my lot comfortable."

" Well, I don't say I can't do something for you.
I'll take you to the office. You must ask for Charlie
Mangin. He's the head bailie that runs the show for
the Fennings,"

io8 THE FROBISHERS

Joan was dressed in preparation, in a very plain
black stuff gown, and with a black straw hat on her
head. Under one arm she carried a portfolio, and in
one hand a basket.

Polly led the way through the deserted streets and
along the blank wall of a chinaware factory, whence
issued no whirr of machinery, making the walls vibrate.
The building seemed to contain no life.

Polly led down a side alley, and then up a flight of
steps in a building, where there were glazed tiles
casing the walls. At the summit was a glass door.

" Here you are," said the girl. " Ask to see and
speak to the manager."

Joan thrust the swinging door open, and preceded
Polly within. A clerk looked up.

" What do you want ? "

" Kindly allow me a word with Mr. Mangin."

" He's busy. You must wait."

Then the clerk resumed his ledger-work, and Joan
retreated to where Polly was seated on a bench by
the wall.

A moment later a man came from an inner room
and spoke with the clerk about some letters to be
entered. Joan at once recognised him as the person
who had g^ven annoyance in the tram, and between
whom and the girl he was persecuting she had inter-
posed. Polly nudged Joan, and whispered —

" That's Charlie Mangin."

As the clerk did not inform the manager that there

MY PAL 109

was anyone desirous of seeing him, she ventured to
step forward and catch his eye. Mr, Mangin looked
at her, somewhat rudely, but without recognition.
He said —

"Well, what?"

" I beg your pardon, sir," answered Joan ; " will you
allow me a word with you ? "

" What about ? "

" If you please, I have come to ask for employment
as an artist."

" Do you belong to a potter family ? "

" No, but I can draw. I have brought a portfolio
of my flower subjects. Will you be so good as to
look at them ? "

She opened and exposed some of her sketches.
Very delicate and charming they were.

" Oh ! " said the manager, " these are no good at all.
It's one thing painting on paper and another on china-
ware."

'^ But I have already essayed that. In this basket
I have attempts made on biscuit ware, afterwards
burnt — I shall be glad to show them to you."

She drew from the basket a cup and a saucer, the
sides decorated with geraniums, in wreaths.

Mr. Mangin took up one of the articles with a
contemptuous shrug and a purse of the lips.

" This is amateurish stuff— all bad — no use in the
least. You don't know the trade, and we don't
require you."

no THE FROBISHERS

" Then if I cannot paint, will you take me into some
other department ? I will do anything to which I am
set."

" Ground-laying ? "

" Ground-laying rather than nothing at all. I will
take the lowest and worst-paid place sooner than
none at all."

" No good — ^you're too old. We like to begin with
the very young. They grow up to understand it"

He turned away, thrusting the cup and saucer from
him slightingly.

"Mr. Mangin," said Polly, rising from the bench
and stepping forward. "She's my pal. You must
give her a chance."

" What ! — ^you here again, Polly Carrots ? Not to
get into the bank once more ? "

" No chance of that," said the girl, and held up her
disabled hand. " No. My work is over."

" You should go away, Polly. Get you to the sea-
side for a while, or up into the moorlands. In time it
will work off."

« Bosh I How am I to do that ? "

" I daresay we could procure you a ticket to some
seaside home or convalescent hospital. I know that
Messrs. Fennings subscribe " —

" Oh yes ! you want to have me out of the way
lest it go worse with me. I get the colic and die
and be inquitched, and so am put into the papers.
Bless your bones I there was a socialist chap down our

MY PAL III

street yesterday, picking up copy, as he called it, and
put all sorts of questions to me about the lead."

" You kept your mouth shut, I hope ? " exclaimed
the manager.

" I did. But Lord ! I might have told tales. Fm
not that sort If I have to talk. Til do so to the
Government Commissioner when he comes, and I
hear he's on his way. Then there'll be ructions."

" Polly, you are not such a fool ! "

" Not I. I know who is doing us to death. It's
not Fennings, nor Popplewoods, nor Dunscumbes —
'tis the general public. Never fear — I'll say naught
But there — if I oblige you so far, you oblige me.
Take my pal."

"Well, Polly, this I would do, but she knows
nothing."

" Save your holy bones 1 " said the girl, " I'll tell you
what I'll do. Let me have home some of the ware
and paints. If I can't lay on colour myself with this
crippled hand, I can insense her how to do it Come
— ^you'll not deny me this, and when the Commissioner
comes I'm sure to be in our back yard hanging out
the clothes."

" Well, Polly, I'll take your pal, as you call her, on
your terms."

CHAPTER XII

BUTTER

T OAN'S sitting-room, converted into a workshop

J in which, under Polly Myatt's instruction, she

mastered the technicalities of painting on biscuit, by

little and little became in the evening a place of

rendezvous for girls.

At first they came shyly, on various excuses, and
only such appeared as could claim intimacy with
Polly. But these brought others, and a speaking
acquaintance with Polly soon served as an introduc-
tion. What began by little and hesitatingly, grew to
be accepted and customary. Joan refused none ; she
was pleased to see them drop in, linger, and gladly
accept an invitation to stay. They sat about the
fire, they talked, joked, asked questions, and passed
opinions.

They were good - natured, simple, and wholesome-
minded girls, whom it was impossible not to like.
Their manners were brusque, but this only showed
the clearer how sound at heart they all were. Their
conversation was largely composed of banter, and

112

BUTTER 113

what was not banter concerned their work and their
associates.

Joan was adaptable, and easily fell in with the
prevalent tone. She played her small jokes on each,
and this readily dissolved restraint, and put all on
terras of easy friendship.

There were differences in character among the
girls. Some were still and self-contained. Such was
Cissie Averill, who liked to sit on a stool in a comer,
with her oxlike eyes fixed on Joan, and could hardly
be induced to speak. But then she was white and
frail in health.

Others were somewhat noisy in talk and laughter —
as Bessie Callear, a girl with a round, rosy face and
dancing eyes, who could hardly keep her hair tidy,
and who had the pleasantest dimples, that were
incessantly forming in her laughing cheeks. And
others, again, were prim and formal in mind and
manners and person, as Margaret Pointon, a handler.
Perhaps incessant daily, hourly forming of one sort of
article, the handles of teacups, had made her a mere
creature of routine.

" You've got a sister, Polly says," observed Bessie.
" Is she older or younger than you ? and is she
jolly?"

" She is younger, only eighteen ; as to whether she
is jolly, judge for yourself — a sister is partial."

" Is she^going into the bank ? "

" I do not know."
8

114 THE FROBISHERS

A slight shade came over Joan's face. Sibylla was
a cause to her of much anxiety. How would her
sister endure such a change in her circumstances,
when that change was brought home to her in a way
words could not effect ? Sibylla knew that she and
Joan were poor, knew that they could no longer live
in luxury, but she had not realised in the smallest
degree what poverty meant, nor nerved herself to
endure hardship. How would she comport herself
towards these new and strange associates whom she
would probably despise ?

"But she is coming here, I suppose?" said the
girl Pointon.

" Yes, we have no home other than this. She must
live with me."

" She might be worse off. I think this vastly fine,"
said Bessie ; " and it's so clean."

" Why is she not here now ? " inquired another.

" Because I am earning nothing yet, and she is
staying in the house of friends who have kindly taken
her in till I should be suited with a house and had
got into work."

" When she comes here, she will work also ? "

" I hope so."

"But she must You ain't going to keep her in
idleness, and work for both. You can't do it. You'll
not earn enough as an apprentice."

" My word ! " exclaimed Bessie, " if your sister
thinks to live here and not work, I'll shake her."

BUTTER 115

" But," explained Joan, " I may require her at home
to look after the house."

" Oh, the house with only two in it don't want so
much looking after. Can she paint ? "

« No."

"Then," said Maggie Pointon, "let her do the
handling."

" No," exclaimed another. " She shall go into the
transfer business."

• •••.••

"Polly," Joan asked of her friend one day, "are
all the girls as nice as those you have brought
here ? "

" Well, now," replied the cripple, " I can't say that
honestly. There are girls and girls. Some are wild,
and some few are downright bad. The wild ones
mostly mean no harm, but they're flighty and don't
look where they're going, and before they are aware,
down they are in the mud on their noses. And some
have bad fathers and mothers and no peace at home,
but quarrelling and drinking — and they go out
because they can't bide there. There's a lot of
excuse for them if they do go a bit off the line. And
there's some know they've a short life, and will get
poisoned and be good for naught in a few years, and
so they try to get the most of pleasure out of the
little time they have to enjoy themselves — and they
ain't as partic'lar as they might be where they go,
and with whom they go pleasure - hunting. But

Ii6 THE FROBISHERS

there's an excuse for them, poor things — and at
bottom they don't mean harm."

"By the way, Polly, I think you maligned your
father. You told me that he was uproarious at times,
when he had taken a drop in excess. And you feared
it would inconvenience me, as there is a partition of
one brick thick alone between us."

Polly laughed.

" I'll tell you the truth about it," said she. " Father
is afeared of you, and he's been moderate sober on
Saturdays since you came. But he did break out
t'other night, and then, mother and me, we put him
into my room and turned the key in the door, and we
two went into that room nigh yours, so that you
mightn't be disturbed."

Joan was touched, and she said as much.

"Oh, it's right enough," remarked Polly. "It
answered first-rate. The wonder is we never thought
to do it before. You see when mother is not in the
same room with him, there's no aggravation, and he
just goes to sleep. We'll try it again, if I can
persuade mother to let him alone."

One evening, when Joan's little parlour had filled
as usual, "What was your father's trade?" asked
Bessie Callear.

" He was " — Joan hesitated. " A bit of a farmer."

" Ah ! " said Maggie Pointon. " It's bad times for
farmers, I've heard tell. I've got an aunt as married
a farmer, and he's been in and seen us, and told how

BUTTER 117

all the corn and beef and pork come from America,
and the mutton from New Zealand and Australia, and
the eggs from France, and the butter from Denmark ;
and he said as how they could get on when wool was
sixpence a pound, but now the general public will
have fine merino and won't touch English ^yool that
has fallen to fourpence ha'penny — and what be the
farmers to do but go bankrupt ? "

" But nothing can beat Cheshire cheese," said one.

" Cheshire ain't all England. It isn't even Stafford-
shire," said another; then turning to Joan, added,
"No wonder your father died badly off."

" I suppose he couldn't leave much ? " asked a third.

"Very little indeed," answered Joan. "My sister
has never been accustomed to work; that is why I
think she will feel it. I would spare her as much as
possible."

" You can't cook but what you've got in the larder,"
said Bessie. "How did you manage all this fine
furnishing if your father died bankrupt ? "

" I did not say he did that," said Joan. " We have
had to sell our little possessions — the horses, and so
on.

" Ay," said Margaret Pointon, " the waggons and
the plough and those things, and the cattle — but if he
were bankrupt, the creditors would take all that"

" There was sufficient left for my sister and me to
start us," explained Joan, with a smile.

" I suppose you made the butter?" said Bessie.

ii8 THE FROBISHERS

" I wouldn't give * thank you ' for salt Irish butter,"
observed one girl. " Give me what is home-made."

" Vd rather have margarine than salt butter," said
another.

" And I — dripping," said a third.

** Give me cheese and bacon ; that is a satisfying
thing to work on."

' Ay, but you may get stalled on that diet I say,
real yellow country butter, yellow that tells the cows
feed on buttercups. That butter is the primest thing
on earth,"

" ril tell you what I like," said another girl, thrust-
ing her way to the fire. " Let me have a toasting-
fork and brown a bit of bread on both sides, and while
it is hot, clap on a lot of butter and let it melt in."

" Buttered toast is good," said Margaret Pointon.

"But it don't do credit to butter. You must eat
butter cold. Once melted, then the nature is gone
from it for ever."

" Then you must have plenty of it," threw in Polly.
" I was out in the country once and went into a farm-
house and asked for tea. The tea I had right enough,
and then some fresh bread, and, my word ! the woman
set butter on it thick as my little finger. It was — it
was — oh my 1 "

"I don't hold," said another girl, "that butter is
spoiled when melted. Just think of a mealy potato,
and a dab of butter in that. It's not to be beaten by
nothing in kings' parlours."

BUTTER 119

" Ah, butter is sixteenpence a pound," said Cissie,
with a sigh, " and half a pound don't go far in a large
family. And you can't afford much butter when you
are paid a penny or twopence a dozen enamelling
prints, and they count eighteen to the dozen."

"It's fine our talking of butter," said Polly; "I'd
like to know if that is country butter we get in the
shops? It's no more like what that farmer's wife
clapped on my slice of bread that chalk is to cheese."

A general grunt of assent, and then ensued a lull.
The topic of butter was talked out.

Presently Cissie Averill said to Joan : " What a
pretty hand you have got."

Joan extended her hand on the table, and displayed
the delicate taper fingers.

" Girls," she said, " I don't call this a pretty hand at
all. It has been a useless hand, whereas your hands
have earned your daily bread. Such are the truly
lovely hands." She looked at her next-door neigh-
bour and friend, and added, " Above all, that of my
dear Polly, crippled with cruel poisonous work. That
is the hand to love and respect — not the idle hand
that has never done aught."

" My word, girls ! " exclaimed Bessie, " ain't she now
giving us butter?"

" Whatever I am giving you," said Joan, " it is
genuine."

CHAPTER XIII

COMMON AND UNCLEAN

SIBYLLA arrived at the country station, driving
the rectorial cob in the low, basket-work,
rectorial carriage.

She was just late for the train, which steamed away
three minutes before she reached the station. When
she drew up, Joan was already outside with her bag
awaiting her.

" Well, dear ! " exclaimed Sibylla, " I am sorry to be
unpunctual, but Bobby has not been clipped, and he
would only crawl. He is pachydermatous, and feels
nothing. How are you ? "

The sisters kissed, and Joan jumped in beside Sibyll.

" Tm main glad to see you," said the younger. " I
have been living on tenterhooks, and you have kept
me there. But, before I scold you, tell me, have you
any more luggage ? "

" None ; everything I shall want is here."

" You are a queer piece of goods," said the younger,
as she brought the lash across Bobby, who, however,
took no notice whatever of it. His coat was like felt.

ISO

.*.mk. .

COMMON AND UNCLEAN 121

" I can't think why the .cob has not been clipped.
Fancy, Joan, a month without a word from you."

" I could not have any satisfaction in writing till I
was settled."

" And are you settled now ? "

" Yes, Sibyll, I have found work."

" Work ! Bah ! I hope it is such as a lady can do."

" Of course, dear. Am I one to take other ? "

"Perhaps not; but you have such queer notions.
Where have you been ? There was no address, only
the date at the head of your letter appointing to arrive
to-day, and we tried to puzzle out the postmark and
failed egregiously, it was so badly impressed."

" Whom do you mean by we ? "

"The rector, Mrs. Barker, Jack Prendergast, and
myself. We were quite three-quarters of an hour
over it. We managed the last syllable but not the
first. Mr. Barker got the Post Office Guide, and we
tried to find out by that, but were unsuccessful."

"Well, my dear, have you been happy at the
parsonage?" asked Joan.

. " Yes, they have been very kind to me. But I must
not stay there much longer. I know that the married
daughter of the Barkers, whose husband is in India,
is coming with her children before Christmas, and
they will require my room."

" Anyhow, you would have to leave. It would be
unseemly to impose on them for longer. It has been
extremely kind of the rector and Mrs. Barker to take

122 THE FROBISHERS

you in — but there must be no trespass on hospit-
ality."

" Oh, as to that, Mr. Barker was presented to the
living by papa. Besides, the Barkers had plenty of
game and fruit sent them. They could have done
no less."

"That may be the case; but your place will be
with me."

" But where, Joan ? "

"I have gone to one of the North Staffordshire
pottery towns. Do you remember, Sibyll, how I at
one time painted china for bazaars, and we bought in
a few pieces ourselves ? "

" Yes, they were extremely pretty— only there were
some blisters. You kept the pieces that had pelar-
goniums on them, I remember."

" It was so. I have obtained work in a pottery —
potbank is the local term."

" What !— can a lady ? "—

" Perfectly."

" But you will have to associate with very inferior
persons, I suppose. And common people are so
apt to presume. Can you keep them at a dis-
tance ? "

" I can make my own friends, of course, and limit
my acquaintance to them."

" But what sort of people are they in that place ?
Are they nice ? "

" They are better than nice — they are lovable."

COMMON AND UNCLEAN 123

"Nonsense, Joan. Is there good society that we
can mix in ? "

" We shall have no chance of associating in what
you call good society. Remember, we are poor."

" We are not by any means so badly off as you
represent. Mr. Beaudessart has been to old Shand
and will buy everything in Pendabury at any reason-
able sum that the lawyer fixes. Shand has named a
figure — really outside the value, a good round sum,
and Mr. Beaudessart closed at once, to his surprise.
And he gave him a cheque for the amount I believe
he is awfully done — isn't it glorious ? "

" Whatever the sum may be," said Joan, " it is not
likely to be such as to enable us to live on the interest
in idleness. I know what there was in the house —
pictures and plate were excluded — and if Mr. Shand
has taken advantage of Mr. Beaudessart's generosity,
it is entirely against my wish, and, if possible, I will
refund the excess. I will not be beholden to any man
for charity, and I will not profit by over-reaching.
Anyhow, whatever sum has been raised, I propose to
let it stand, and, Sibyll, it shall be yours when you
marry. As for myself, I will not say that I have
made my bed in which to lie, but I have found a field
in which all my faculties of mind and body will find
exercise, and that will provide me with a new zest
in life."

" Do you mean as a painter on porcelain ? "

" Yes."

124 THE FROBISHERS

" What will you receive ? A large sum ? "

" No. At first outset barely sufficient to sustain
us. As I get on, I trust that the pay will increase."

" It is monstrous," said the younger sister, standing
up in the carriage to whack the cob. " It is simply
monstrous that you, who have never done a stroke of
real work in your life, should have now to work for
your bread."

" On the contrary, Sibyll, I regard it as monstrous
that till now I have never done a stroke of profitable
work."

" See I " exclaimed Sibyll, " here comes Mr, Beau-
dessart driving this way. We shall meet, and I do
believe he only wants a sign to lead him to speak
to us."

"Drive on," said Joan. "If he has been cheated
about the furniture I am ashamed to look him in the
face."

Hector Beaudessart passed and raised his hat.
Joan bowed somewhat stiffly, and without a muscle
in her face changing. Sibyll made a sign of gay
recognition with the driving whip,

" He is inclined to be civil, and I have had a hint
from Mr. Barker that he is willing to do something
for us, if we will allow it"

" But 1 will not allow it," said Joan peremptorily.
" I will not live upon alms. Besides, I have learned
to be ashamed of idleness. God forgive me for my
last twenty-three years ! " she exclaimed passionately.

COMMON AND UNCLEAN 125

" No, Sibyll, there is something elevating, ennobling
in honest work."

" I see no fun in work ; unless we are absolutely
and inevitably driven to it, I would not work at all."

" That is precisely the sentiment of the Hooligan,
the Sundowner, and the tramp."

" Nonsense. We are ladies."

Joan made no reply. Her bosom was heaving with
a sort of anger. But this passed. Then she began
to ask herself whether it would be possible for her to
inspire Sibylla with any of those new ideas that were
fermenting in her own brain and firing her blood.
The Mosaic law forbade the harnessing together of
the ox and the ass in the plough, and was it possible
that she, who was prepared to undertake patient
plodding, and the light and impetuous Sibyll could go
under one yoke ?

" You have not told me yet," said the young sister
pettishly, " what sort of place you have decided upon
for us to live in. Are there golf links, and is there a
hockey club ? "

"We are in profound mourning," said Joan eva-
sively.

" But we shall not be so eternally. So soon as
we are in half mourning we can go out — and hockey
does not count Why are you dressed with such out-
rageous plainness ? "

" Because I cannot afford to dress richly."

" We must dress up to our rank."

126 THE FROBISHERS

" And our rank is now other from what it was. We
shall have to consider this."

" I shall always be a lady," said Sibyll, tossing her
chin and flicking the reins.

" I have no intention of being other," answered Joan
quietly, " but a poor lady I shall be by constraint, and
one working for my sustenance. Do not forget that,
Sibyll."

" I loath the notion."

« I love it."

''All men are not made alike, it is said ; and I am
quite certain that all girls are not. What sort of
cottage have you taken?"

"It is a small house in a street — but an end
house."

" In a street ! insufferable ! I trust it is semi-
detached in the villa style."

" Not at all. A plain brick house, one in a row ;
with one window and a door in front on the ground
floor, and two above. That is all."

" But — there is a garden ? "

" None at all. Flowers and shrubs, even grass, will
not grow there."

" Gracious, Joan ! This is sickening. Why, we shall
never get people to call on us in such a hole as that."

" I have had abundance of callers," said Joan, with a
smile — but there was a tinge of sadness in the smile.

" Callers ! How so ? Had you introductions ? "

"To be candid with you, Sibyll, all the callers I

COMMON AND UNCLEAN 127

have had, and all that we are likely to have, and dare
expect, will be people of the working class — the class
to which, henceforth, we belong."

" Joan ! " — Sibyll dropped the reins, and turned her-
self bodily about. " Surely, and in grave earnestness,
you do not mean common people ? "

" Yes, common people. We are now only common
people ourselves."

" I hate everything common."

"The common earth, and common air — and, I
suppose, even common prayer?"

"You know what I mean. I cannot, I will not
sink to associate with common people."

" Sibyll, you remind me of the apostle. When the
sheet was let down out of heaven full of all manner
of beasts, he would not touch them, because they were
common and unclean. He was rebuked. * What God
hath cleansed that call not thou common.' Sibyll, we
are all common people, children of first common
parents, of the same common flesh and blood, and
partakers of a common Redemption."

" Bah 1 "

Sibyll's brows knit, and her lips tightened.

" If you talk like this, Joan, I shall get to hate
you."

" Sister dear, do not make matters harder for me.
I have to think for the future of both of us. I have
to face our present difficulties."

" Well, Joan, I do not wish to hurt your feelings,

128 THE FROBISHERS

and prove obstinate. But I do ask one thing of you,
and that I entreat you to grant Say ootbing to
anyone in or about Fendabury about this terrible
come-down. Fancy the servants, the village people,
our friends, the county families, knowing that we bad
descended to such a depth of degradation ! It would
be too horrible for words,"

" I will say nothing, and spare your feelings ; and
do you, Sibyll, in return, as you love me, never again
speak of common people. What God hath cleansed
that call not thou common."

CHAPTER XIV

AN OBSTINATE WOMAN

JOAN FROBISHER was warmly received at the
parsonage by the rector and his wife, for with
them she had ever been a prime favourite. Sibyll they
endured and made allowances for ; but Joan they loved.

She was in time for their early dinner, which had
been postponed for half an hour on that day, so as to
enable her to dine with them.

'* You have left us in the dark ; you disappeared into
space without informing us whither you were going,"
said Mrs. Barker. "Now tell us everjrthing about
your doings and where you have been, for you know
how deeply and warmly we are interested in you.
We spent an infinity of trouble and much time over
the postmark this morning, when your letter reached
us. The rector got out his magnifying glass — he
looked, I looked, so did Mr. Prendergast and Sibyll,
but failed to make out anything."

" Joan," said the younger of the sisters, striking in
before the other could answer, "Joan has been en-
gaged scouring the country in quest of a house, and
9

130 THE FROBISHERS

has at length discovered one near the moors, that she
thinks will suit us."

"Where? Which moors? What is the name of
the parish ? " asked the rector.

" That is, unfortunately, what I am obliged to leave
you in ignorance about," said Joan.

" You see," put in Sibyll, " till we are established in
our new quarters, and till I know that the air and the
neighbourhood will agree with me, we do not wish to
be regarded as permanently settled."

" And," added Joan, " we desire to be very, very
quiet this winter."

"That could not well happen," said Sibyll, "if it
were known where we were. Our many friends about
Pendabury are certain to have relations and acquaint-
ances in that part, and would impress on them the
obligation to call on us. So Joan and I have put our
heads together, and have agreed to keep dark as to
where we shall perch, till we have quite made up our
minds to nest there."

"Well, you know best," said Mrs. Barker. "But
consider that everyone will be inquiring about you,
and that of us ; and it seems strange, and it will be
embarrassing to have to reply to querists that we do
not know where you are. Ask people will, for you
are general favourites, and much sympathy has been
felt for you."

" Dear Mrs. Barker," said Joan, " none can appre-
ciate this sympathy (nore than do my sister and

AN OBSTINATE WOMAN 131

myself. We have undergone a great shock — the
sudden death of our father — and before we had re-
covered from that, there came a second — the loss of all
that he had laid by for our maintenance in comfort.
We have been called upon to quit our old home, to
break old ties, relax old associations, and we need
quiet in which to fit ourselves to our altered circum-
stances, and form our habits to the new mode of life
to which Providence calls us. Put yourself in our
place. When you have received a stunning blow, is
it not the best of all medicines to be left absolutely
undisturbed ? "

" I daresay that you are right," said the rector, " but
you will be beset by inquirers so long as you are here.
Every old tenant on the estate, every poor cottager in
the parish, will ask, * Well, miss, and where to be you
going ? * You will find it a hard matter to put them
off."

" But, Mr. Barker, I do not propose to remain here
and trespass on your hospitality more than three nights
— allowing myself just sufficient time to run round
and say good-bye to our village friends. I shall
manage somehow to put them off as to our destina-
tion. Their acquaintance with geography is not so
extensive but that it will enable me to puzzle
them."

Both the rector and his wife exclaimed against so
early a departure, but Joan persisted in her deter-
mination.

132 THE FROBISHERS

" I have taken a cottage and furnished it," she said,
" and have left it vacant"

"But have you not engaged a servant?" asked
Sibylla, somewhat taken aback.

" If I had I could not have left her alone. But I
have not ; and so, as my house is empty and all my
new things are unprotected, I must return as soon as
I possibly can."

" Now, look here," said the rector, " we give you till
March as a close season ; after that we shall insist on
knowing where you are, and as you hinted the moors,
I have no doubt there are trout-streams near you. I
will then insist on looking you up, and provide you
with a dish of silver trout Bless me ! The moors !
What a place for bee-keeping. You must let me rig
you up a row of patent hives."

After the early dinner, leaving her sister to pack
up her clothes and small treasures, Joan started
for the home farm, to see Mrs. Truslove, and
to order from her twelve pounds of butter, to be
packed, each pound separately, but all together in
one hamper.

The shortest, cleanest, and most pleasant way to
the farm was through the park, but Joan purposely
did not select this. She preferred to take the more
circuitous high road, that for a portion of the way
skirted the grounds of Pendabury. The chosen road
was not a little dirty, and where not dirty was stony,
as the road makers had been spreading tracts of

AN OBSTINATE WOMAN 133

broken metalling, at that time of the year most
suitable for being worked into the bed of the
highway.

Mrs. Truslove, of the farm, was very pleased to
see Joan, and detained her some time talking
over old times, and expressing her desire to know
where the young ladies intended to settle, as also,
that they should remember and have their butter
from her.

She was a warm-hearted woman, but behind all
feeling for those who were leaving lurked anxiety lest
the new squire should not consume as much butter
and milk and cream as had the old household. Folk
did say he had a house near Lichfield, and that he
would spend most of his time there ; and if Penda-
bury were to be shut up, it would be a bad thing
for the tenant of the home farm. Finally, Joan got
away, and Mrs. Truslove undertook to send to the
rectory the butter that was ordered, the evening
before Joan's departure.

Barely had Joan left the farm before she encoun-
tered Hector Beaudessart issuing from the gates of
the park, apparently on his way to the farm she had
just quitted.

At once he saluted, and that with warmth.

Seeing that she was about to turn down the road,
he threw open the gate to Pendabury grounds and
said —

"No, indeed, Miss Frobisher, you are not to be

134 THE FROBISHERS

allowed to wade in red mud, or turn your ankles on
the stones. I know that you intend returning to the
rectory, and, with your permission, I will accompany
you part of the way thither, over the dry and gravelled
path through the grounds. I passed you this morning,
and have been wishing and purposing to speak with
you a few words. Are you at leisure to listen to
them now ? "

" You are very kind," said Joan, " and, as you see,
I am disengaged."

She could not without ungraciousness refuse the
civility. If he were intent on making to her some
communication, it would be as well to have it over at
once, and not remain in suspense herself, and force
him to call at the parsonage. She accordingly
passed through the gateway with a slight bow. He
stood aside and then followed, and came up with
her.

They walked side by side for some little way in
silence, he apparently labouring with diffidence, and
she wondering what he was about to say. Presently
she broke silence with a question.

" Is your mother with you at the Hall ? "

"Not yet," he replied; "she is still at Rosewood,
and my sister Julie is now leaving. When she is gone,
then I suppose my mother will come here. I ride
over about every alternate day to see after matters
that require to be attended to. I suspect my mother
will remove from Rosewood next Saturday, and this

AN OBSTINATE WOMAN 135

brings me to the matter upon which I desire to con-
sult you. We have taken Rosewood for a term of
seven years at least, and it hangs upon our hands.
It is really a sweet spot, commands a lovely view,
stands high, and faces the sun. My dear mother has
had the garden well stocked, and the house is fully
furnished. Indeed, in it are new plate, china, and
linen, everything requisite — and we require none of
these things, as there is abundance of all that can
be wanted at Pendabury. My mother and Julie have
been talking the matter over, and to be plain with
you, we are embarrassed what to do with Rosewood.
I am commissioned to approach you with a petition,
and to supplicate that you and your sister will do
us the favour of occupying it. I know that we
deserve nothing at your hands — but we have
heard enough of you to know that you are charit-
able. In our dilemma we appeal to that quality
for which you are famous in these parts, to ex-
tricate us from our difficulties. We do not wish
to let the house ; at this time of the year it would
not be easy to find a tenant, and we do not
relish leaving all our new and pretty furniture to be
mildewed and moth-eaten. Will you go to Rose-
wood ? There is more," he added hastily, as he saw
she was about to speak, and from the look of her
face judged that she was about to decline his offer.
" There are at Rosewood a cob and a light carriage,
harness — everything, in fact, is new, and harness is an

136 THE FROBISHERS

article that rapidly deteriorates unless kept in constant
use. We shall be forced to retain a man at Rose-
wood to look to the garden and the cob, whether
the latter be employed or not These also are
entirely at your service; and Rosewood is only
nine miles from Pendabury, so that your friends
will be round you.*'

"I thank you," said Joan, with a flutter in her
voice, for she felt the sincere kindness that prompted
the offer, and saw through the excuses that were
made to disguise its kindness. "Pray tell your
dear mother that I feel her thought for us, and
feel it deeply; but I have already rented and fur-
nished a house, suitable for my sister and myself,
and made all arrangements for going into it in a
couple of days."

" Is it far from this place? "

" Some way."

" In that case you will feel lonely away from your
old friends and neighbours."

" That happens to be precisely what my sister and
I desire. We do not mean this to be taken as
though we were ungrateful for many kindnesses
shown us, and as if we had become acrimonious
spinsters, snarling at the world, and misinterpreting
every courtesy shown us. Far from that — our pur-
pose is to be quiet, and keep to ourselves for a while.
We have undergone a sharp trial, and wish to retire
till our wounds are healed, away from scenes that

AN OBSTINATE WOMAN 137

remind us of a happy past and keep alive the sense
of pain."

" Must it be so indeed ? " said the young man, turn-
ing his troubled face toward her. " May I return to
the charge, and put the matter in another light? On
entering and occupying Pendabury we shall labour
under a cloud of prejudice. The whole neighbour-
hood will resent our intrusion and your displacement.
You they have loved and admired, and have regfarded
as the choicest ornament of their district. Pendabury
without you or your sister will be placed under taboo.
You see, we are selfish people, considering in all
this our own convenience. Is it really so — that you
are inflexible in your determination ? Will not you
come — one at a time, or, better still, both — and stay
with my mother at Pendabury? You shall have
your old rooms just as you left them, and your
old lady's maid to attend on you; and, with
you there, the world of South Staffordshire will
witness that we are on good terms, and for your
sakes will have mercy upon us strangers and
Colonials."

" You put your request in such a way as to make
it very diflicult for me to refuse. But as I said,
we have taken our house. Both cannot abandon it —
we should be in the same plight with regard to it as
you profess to be about Rosewood; and I am sure
you would not like to have one sister eat her heart
out in solitude if you carried oflf the other. I thank

138 THE FROBISHERS

your mother, and fully appreciate her goodness, but
I cannot accept."

" Well, then," said Hector, with an exclamation of
impatience, " if you will not help us, will you graciously
allow us to help you ? "

"In what way?"

" You are going to a new place, among strangers.
You are starting without any man or woman of ex-
perience and suitable age to assist you. Is it not so ?
Difficulties you will meet with, and will not know how
to surmount them, and you may become a prey to
the designing and selfish. I do entreat you, let Julie
accompany you, and place herself at your disposal,
for a while. She knows much of the world, and
would be invaluable."

" I have settled everything," answered Joan. " As
to Julie — if I actually need her, I have only to write,
'Come over and help us,* and she will be with me.
She put her hand into mine and promised to answer
such an appeal."

" You will not suffer us to do more ? "

" Thank you — nothing."

" Upon my word. Miss Frobisher, you are without
exception the most obstinate woman I have met in
my life. Julie is self-willed — but you are self-will
sublimated to an essence."

"You would say that I am ungracious. That I
may not be esteemed utterly obstinate in your sight,
I will accept of one thing from you — a large hamper

AN OBSTINATE WOMAN

139

of holly with berries. Send it to the station I will
designate, to be left till called for, in the week before
Christmas. I will manage to have it fetched thence."

" Is that really all ? "

" All."

CHAPTER XV

THE BLUE LINE

WHEN the two girls arrived at the station of
the pottery town in which Joan had resolved
settling, a cab, by previous arrangement, was awaiting
them.

It was needed on account of the luggage they had
brought with them. This was in excess of what Joan
thought necessary, but Sibylla had insisted on carry-
ing away from Pendabury, and bringing to the new
quarters, a thousand knick-knacks, little china dogs
and cocks and cows, framed photographs, pin-trays,
novels and flower-vases, without which, in her opinion,
no gfirl's bedroom could be complete.

The moment that they alighted, the urchin, unin-
vited, appeared on the scene and snatched at the bag
and bundles Joan had in her hands, and then, observ-
ing that Sibylla was her companion, wrested from
her also umbrella and parasol, and whatever was in
her arms.

" So ye're back ! " said the boy, winking at Joan.
" I was about to advertise — lost, stolen, or strayed, a
young maid."

140

THE BLUE LINE 141

^^ Stand back!" exclaimed Sibylla indignantly,
staring at the audacious arab. "Let go my
parcels. Joan ! do pray drive that insolent boy
away."

" Is this yer sister ? " inquired he, looking up into
Joan's face with a familiar grin.

" She is."

" They needn't trouble to pass the Deceased Wife's
Sister Bill for my convenience," said he. " When I'm
a sorrerin' widower I shan't cast my affections her
way."

"You go too far," said Joan. "What is your
name ? "

"Tom Treddlehoyle. Do yer like the sound of
it?"

" Tom," said Joan, " you offend my sister, and I do
not like too much of this."

"All right," answered the urchin, "you can have
too much toffee at times."

" Here," said Joan, " here are three pence ; I cannot
add another, as you have not deserved it with a
compliment."

Joan and her sister entered the cab. The boy
touched his tattered cap with mock politeness,
slammed the door with unnecessary violence, turned
the handle, and then, with a leap, ensconced himself
by the driver.

"Good gracious! that little fiend is on the box,"
exclaimed Sibyll. " Joan, we cannot possibly let him

142 THE FROBISHERS

accompany us. He is in rags and is smirched with
dirt, face and hands, and tatters. It will never do
for us to drive through the town with that horror.
What will people think of us ? "

" As to that, Sibyll, no one will give us a thought
That jackanapes will be serviceable with our boxes
and bundles when we reach our destination. He is
not a bad little chap."

" Impertinence should never be encouraged," said
Sibyll, in a tone of disgust " It makes me quite
uncomfortable to know that he fingers our traps, he
is so dirty."

" He is miserably poor — and I am glad to be able
to give him a few coppers" said Joan. "We have
struck up a sort of friendship, he and I."

" Preserve us ! "

" And he really does amuse me."

" I can see nothing amusing in insolence," observed
Sibylla severely.

The matter was allowed to drop, and the younger
sister looked out of the cab window on her side.

" What a hideous town this is, and so sooty," she
remarked irritably. " I have not seen a decent shop
as yet Is it always muffled in crape ? "

"We have hardly reached the best part of the
town," explained Joan.

" And there are no well-dressed people. We have
not passed a single private carriage."

" No one here keeps private carriages. The only

THE BLUE LINE 143

wheeled conveyances are the doctor's gig, the tram-
cars, some wains, and many perambulators. Do not
expect too much. Sibyll, let me speak plainly, and
dispel any illusions still occupying your brain. We
are wretchedly poor. Papa had much overdrawn at
the bank, to invest in that Transvaal gold mine, and
we are left with very little. I intend that we shall
live by the work of our own hands, and not as
parasites. We have been compelled by circumstances
to descend from our position as county people to that
of the operatives. We shall have to live among and
associate with the working hands in a pottery. That
is the truth, and has to be met. We must face our
difficulties without flinching, and gird ourselves to
our task. As a sensible girl you will accommodate
yourself to the inevitable; as a good Christian girl
you will not give way to useless repining. There are
compensations in life, and I already see that the
compensation in our case will be considerable. For
my part, I feel as though I had stepped out of a
conservatory to take a plunge in the sea. You will,
doubtless, be startled at first when you meet your
future associates, who are my friends. They will
come in this evening, after work hours, to observe
you. Show them a smiling face and give them
pleasant words. They may not have highly polished
manners, and so differ from the girls with whom you
have hitherto associated, but at heart there is no
difference, or let me rather say, what difference exists,

144 THE FROBISHERS

is all in tbetr favour. They do not live in luxury, they
are none of them idlers ; they are, every one of them,
useful members of society, contributors to the well-
being of mankind. Every one of them has something
solid to show at the end of each day : one has turned
out so many dozen teapot spouts, another has
coloured so many score sprigs of flowers, a third has
made so many electric insulators. What contribution
have you or I given to human comfort or progress ?
Our days have been spent in vanity, emptiness, self-
indulgence, and waste of good time. Each one of
these poor girls in a single day has rendered up a
nobler tale of work than you or I in ten years. I
beg you to consider that, when you meet them.
Approach them in a humble spirit, and humility is
the only attitude that beseems us well-bred loafers.
They have warm hearts. You will discover that
there is a quality in them which will command some-
thing more than respect. They are useful — we, not.
To such as ourselves, shouldered from our seat by
the fire, and thrust forth into a cold and stormy
world, the welcome of warm hearts should be
precious,"

" I will do what I can," said Sibyll, " but I am not
a canary, to change my colour when I change my
climate."

Joan took her sister's hand.

" Sibyll, I entreat you not to offend them."

" I will do what I can. I have said so, and I will

THE BLUE LINE 145

be as good as my word. But you must not expect
of me impossibilities."

" Impossibilities ! No — all I require of you is to
behave towards these girls with kindly courtesy.
That is what every lady should be able and willing
to give to even the lowest"

Sitofll interrupted her sister with an exclama-
tion —

"I say, Joan! Where are we going? We seem
to be descending into the slums. What an awful
place ! "

" This is our street."

The cab stopped, and with one bound the urchin
was on the ground ; and next moment had reached
the door of No. 16, and had knocked.

It was opened immediately, and a girl appeared in
the doorway with the glow behind her in the little
passage from the fire in the parlour.

The boy ran to the side of the cab, and threw wide
the door, then unceremoniously laid hold of rugs and
parcels that lay on the unoccupied seat, and carried
them within. He was back in a moment, but not
before Joan had descended. He then crooked his
arm with offer of support to Sibyll as she stepped
forth.

" One of us must watch the imp," said Sibyll, " lest
he walk off with some of our traps. We have so many
small items."

" He is all right ; I would trust him with my

146 THE FROBISHERS

watch," said Joan. "Come in and see my pal,
Polly."

When the boy had carried every article into the
house, and Joan had paid the cabman, she offered
the lad threepence for his further services.

"All right," said he, "but Td prefer a kiss."

"And that you certainly shall not have from
me.

" Well, give me leave to cheek your sister."

" Nor that either."

" Then hand over the threepence."

" Tom," said Joan, " we are not far off Christmas.
I shall be making a plum - pudding against that
festival. Should you be this way, and come to our
door on Christmas Day, I think there will be a slice
for you, with a sprig of holly on top. In return,
moderate your impudence. My sister does not like
it. She is unhappy, and a very little upsets her.
Say what you will to me — I don't mind you — but keep
a civil tongue in your head before her."

** All right, old gal ! " sung out the urchin, turned a
wheel in the muddy street, and disappeared.

With a beaming face Joan entered the parlour, that
was flushed with light from a well heaped-up coal
fire.

Sibyll had been prepared by Joan for Polly. Joan
had told her that the girl was partly paralysed ; that
she lived next door ; that she had been a help to
her in many ways, notably in getting admission to

THE BLUE LINE 147

Fennings* bank; and she had further enlarged on
the girl's many good qualities.

Polly flew to divest Sibyll of her sealskin jacket.

" My word ! " she exclaimed, " if this ain't real fur.
What a grand burying you might have on it ! How-
ever did you come by it ? "

"It was given to me by my father," answered
Sibyll.

" He must have been reckless with his brass. No
wonder he went bankrupt. I've got you some-
thing ready to eat. The kettle is on the boil for
tea, and I've set out bacon and cheese for your
meal."

" Bacon and cheese ! " gasped Sibyll.

" I think, Polly," said Joan, " that we shall have an
appetite for nothing but tea and bread and butter.
We have plenty to occupy us; a lot of unpacking
must be done, and that before the girls drop in.
That they are sure to do when they go by from
bank, and notice a light in our house."

"Ah, you know them," said Polly, laughing.
"Well, it's just about so. They're all amazing
curious to see your sister, and find out if she is like
you."

" I am glad to hear it, for I have something for
each."

" No — now — what ? "

" I will give you your present at once, if you will
get me a knife and help to cut the strings of that

148 THE FROBISHERS

hamper. Take care — we must not open it in this
hot room, but remove it to the back kitchen."

"What is it?"

" Butter. A pound of real country butter for each
of my friends."

Polly would have clapped her hands had not one
been maimed. However, her eyes danced.

"You couldn't give us nothing we'd like better.
There's some for Cissie, I suppose ? "

" Of course there is."

" I doubt if she will come here."

"Why so?"

" She's in trouble."

" Of what sort ? "

" Oh, the blue line."

" What do you mean by the blue line ? "

" Look here," said Polly, and pulled down her lower
lip. " Do you see this streak ? That is the lead. It
shows itself there, when in the blood. At the bank
the bailie found out that Cissie had it, and she has
been sacked. They don't want to have her paralysed
or die of the lead colic. You see there's been a lot
of talk lately about the lead, and there's Government
Inspectors coming down to look into it — so they tell ;
and Charlie Mangin don't want a row, and anything
get in the papers about poisoning at Fennings' bank.
So he sacked her at once."

" But why was she not put to other work in which
no lead was employed ? "

THE BLUE LINE 149

"She's too far gone for that. They do that
often, but you see there's an inspector like to
come."

" Then is she at home now ? "

" She is at No. 35."

" Is that where her people are ? "

"She hasn't got any people. She has no home.
Her father met with an accident in the ovens and was
killed. She is an orphan — without a mother either.
She just lodges with the Skrimagers. How she
will get on now with them, and she earning no
wages, I can't say. But she is gone terrible low-
spirited."

" This is extraordinarily sudden, is it not ? "

"Oh no! She's knowed it was coming on, but
said naught. You see she must live, and to live must
work ; and so long as the public will have their ware
glossed, some must do the dipping. She had the
lead over her fingers all day, and run up her sleeve,
over her arm. Some take it sooner ; for years some
don't seem to be affected by it, and then, all at once,
down they go as if shot. Cissie has been ailing for
some time, and looked queer, and has been low and
not liked to talk. We saw it was coming on, but she
took care to keep her mouth shut, so that the blue line
might not be seen. But it was found out at last, and
now she is done for."

" But what will become of her if the Skrimagers
will not keep her ? "

ISO

THE FROBISHERS

"She'll get worse, and have to be took to the
hospital or union."

"Til go to her at once," said Joan.

" Ay, go, there is a dear. The Skrimagers are out
now at bank. Til keep your sister company."

CHAPTER XVI

SUPPRESSED RHEUMATISM

JOAN found Cissie Averill alone in No. 35,
crouching by the fire, with her head in her
hands and with traces of tears on her colourless
cheeks. She looked up as her visitor entered, and
greeted her with a smile, but a smile in which was
no brightness.

** Tell me all about it," said Joan, taking a stool and
seating herself beside Cissie.

Then the girl poured out her story into her ear.
There was not much in it more than what had already
been communicated by Polly Myatt, but the particulars
were fuller.

" I've been ailing some time," said Cissie, " and I
knowed it would be on me soon. Charlie Mangin
heard of it through our bailie, and he came right
into our room and straight up to me. * Look here,'
says he, * I'm not going to have no more lead cases at
Fennings*, so clear out with a week's wages to play
with. Hook to the seaside — anywhere you like out
of this town ; and after you have been there three

161

154 THE FROBISHERS

years, and the rest of the girls have been at me per-
suading me to leave the place, so that there mayn't
be no disturbances. Some must do the work, and if
they do it, sooner or later they must be leaded."

"Cissie," said Joan, "the same mischief is not
wrought in all parts of the factory."

"Bless you, no. It is harmless anywhere but in
the dipping and the ground-laying. But what's the
good of all the processes that are harmless, without
the lead at the end ? Some must do the work with
that."

" Why must ? "

" Because nobody will have ware that hasn't been
treated with it."

Joan looked into the fire and brooded. She could
see no way out of the dilemma. Presently she said —

" Cissie, I am about to try to get my sister into
Fennings* bank ; not into one of the branches of the
work that is dangerous. I am determined that she
shall have nothing to do with the lead."

" You must go where you're put."

"We shall see. She shall leave, if set at any
employment that will poison her. Now, when we
are both engaged all day we shall require someone
in No. 1 6, to look after the house for us and to cook
our dinner for us."

" Shan't you go to an eating-house ? "

" No — because I want you to come to us."

" Me ! "

SUPPRESSED RHEUMATISM 155

" Yes, Cissie. Come and help us. My sister has
never been accustomed to work of any sort, and
would be as helpless over the kitchen fire as you
would be with a sewing machine. We shall return
from the bank fagged and disinclined for domestic
drudgery ; moreover, how should I find time to receive
the girls in the evening, if I had to be engaged on
matters connected with the house ? I should be most
unwilling not to have leisure to sit and talk, and bake
chestnuts with my visitors."

« Me, with you ? "

" Yes, Cissie. Have you any objection ? "

The tears filled the girl's great solemn eyes, and
she took Joan's hand between her own and kissed it ;
then she dropped the hand and said —

" It won't do neither. I'm pretty sure to be palsied.
My hand may fall at the wrist like Polly Myatt's, or
else I'd have the lead colic."

" I'll take you as you are, Cissie ; and if you do
fail, you shall not go to the hospital. I will attend to
you myself. And now " — as the girl was about to be
effusive in her gratitude — "now I particularly wish
you to return with me at once to No. 16, for I have
got a present for you from the country — a pound of
beautiful butter, yellow as a buttercup, from Jersey
cows, and with a crown of roses stamped on the top."

The girl's heart was too full for words, but she
pressed Joan's hand to her bosom, and rose to
accompany her.

156 THE FROBISHERS

At that moment the door opened and Mrs.
Skrimager came in, the woman «-ith whom Cissic
lodged.

Recognising Joan, she nodded and said —

" Bad job about Cissie, ain't it ? "

" Very bad indeed ; she is too young to become a
wreck," answered Joan.

"Oh, we've atl to chance it," said the wtKnan
slightingly. " My Jane went with it. Some stand
it better tlian do others. Whatever she's to do I
don't know. We can't keep her here, earning nothing.
That's not reasonable, and she's no relation to the
master or to me, so we've no call to do it."

" What's that ? " asked Skrimager, also coming in.
"Are you talking about Cissie? If she leaves here
it'» to go to the hospital, and we don't want that
Lord, old woman I it shan't come to that You
know, mother, how our daughter Jane was leaded
and we lost her. Well, the doctor, he behaved like a
gem'man, and registered her, as how she died of sup-
pressed rheumatics. What the deuce do it matter, if
a gal docs go underground, if it's caused by the lead
or by suppressed rheumatics? It don't touch her
'appiness in kingdom come, now-ways. And it ain't
more consoling to the surviving parents, if it's one or
t'other. We don't want no unpleasantness any more
than do the Fennings. If there's such a fuss made
about the lead — and there's too many restrictions
imposed — it'll drive the business out of the country,

SUPPRESSED RHEUMATISM 157

and that means as how the money will go to
Germans or French, and not come into North
StafTordshire. Colour dusting and dipping must be
done, and you must have some to do it, and take
the risks. Til tell you what Til do, mother and
Cissie ; I'll have a talk to Charlie Mangin, and
propose — what will you do it for, mother? shall I
say seven shillings a week? — that we keep the girl
on here, and if she die, I daresay we can get a
doctor as is a gem'man, who will subscribe she
died of suppressed rheumatics. Lord bless you ! it's
wonderful what a ravaging complaint that is in our
parts, and how many in this place do die of
suppressed rheumatics."

CHAPTER XVII

FOOTINGS

ON reaching No. i6, Joan was at once aware that
something had gone wrong. Several girls, on
their way home from bank, had dropped in, and
were standing in perplexity looking at Sibyll, who
sat crying in a rocking-chair by the hearth, whilst
the good-natured Bessie Callear was kneeling beside
her, attempting vainly to tranquillise her.

Joan could read mortification and ill-temper in
her sister's face, and she saw that the well-intentioned
eflTorts of Bessie and such as seconded her but aggra-
vated the evil. She accordingly at once proceeded
to create a diversion.

" Girls," she said, " glad to see you all again, and
I have got a trifle for every one of you — just to
show that I had you in my mind whilst I was away.
You can have buttered toast as much as you can
manage, Bessie! And you, Polly, shall have your
slice of bread with butter laid on with a trowel.
And you, Essie Gott, can stick a big pat into a
mealy potato. Look! there is a pound for each in

168

FOOTINGS 159

the back kitchen, done up in white muslin. As to
my sister, you must excuse her. She is tired out
and unhappy. Remember that she has had a hard
day, leaving her old home, so that the best place for
her is bed, and the best medicine a good sleep."

The girls rushed into the back kitchen, where the
butter was ranged ; and Joan took occasion to go to
her sister and whisper —

"Do not be put out; I will dismiss them in two
minutes. They really mean well, and are come to
welcome you."

"Is this a public-house or a parish club?" asked
Sibyll peevishly. " I did hope that if we had ever
so small a house, we should have it to ourselves.
To be mobbed in this way is intolerable."

Joan could not answer, for the girls returned in
exuberant delight, and insisted on kissing her.
Nothing she could have given them would have
caused greater pleasure.

" There's one over," said Polly ; " you take my
advice and send it down with your respects to Lena
Battersby. She is to take you on as 'prentice in the
painting-room ; she'll receive it as an attention, and
you'll be the gainer for that."

" I will certainly do so," said Joan.*

"Then, mind you write on a slip, *With Miss
Frobisher's compliments and kind regards to Miss
Battersby.' Til take it to her. She don't live in
our street."

i6o THE FROBISHERS

This was cheerfully agreed to. Then the guests
departed, full of smiles and thanks.

When the sisters were left to themselves, Sibyll
assumed an air of injured innocence. She was the
youngest, and must accordingly submit, but she was
constrained to remark that she thought she might
have been consulted, at least considered, when Joan
selected a place of habitation, and companions. It
was no obligation binding on a sister to be friends
with the acquaintances of her sister ; on the contrary,
usually each selected her own associates. She must
say that from what she had seen of Joan's mode of
living, she regarded it as peculiar. Of course these
friends of hers had brothers, and where these girls
entered there their male relations would thrust them-
selves. Then a condition of affairs would be reached
that would be worse than peculiar, one that the rector
of their parish at home would reprobate, one that
would make her dear father turn in his grave.

Joan bore this grumbling good - humouredly and
without contradiction.

As the following day was Sunday, she endeavoured
to get Sibyll to resolve whether she preferred going
to church in the morning or in the evening, as one
of the twain must be at home to prepare the early
dinner. Joan had some difficulty in getting her
sister to come to a decision. Finally, however, Sibyll
said that very possibly she might attend divine
worship in the morning, as she was convinced of

FOOTINGS i6i

her incapacity to execute the most ordinary kitchen
work.

When Sunday morning came, Joan undertook the
preparations for the meal, and Sibyll, who did not
leave her room till late, described herself as being too
tired, and too afraid of losing her way, and too much
ashamed of her condition, to care to go to church at
all.

On Monday morning Joan's work at the " bank "
was to begin. She rose before daylight, made herself
a cup of cocoa, laid the fire for Sibyll, put on the
kettle, and started for the pottery works.

One of the girls there employed, Essie Gott, called
for her, so as to introduce her. Mr. Mangin would
not be at the office so early ; moreover, it was quite
unnecessary that she should report herself to him.
The bailie, or foreman, had been told to expect her,
and Lena Battersby awaited her.

The women working at ground-laying and the
assistants to the dippers wear overalls, a loose white
dress that completely covers the gown, sleeves in-
cluded, and they wear fiat caps of the same material
and colour, in shape like those worn by French men-
cooks. The dress is by no means unbecoming — and
a workshop presents a fresh and pleasant aspect,
with the white figures moving in it, themselves like
animated pieces of Dresden ware.

The first thing to be done on entering the works

is to deposit the tin containing the breakfast in its
II

i62 THE FROBISHERS

proper place, where, on a stove, it can be kept warm,
and then those engaged on the dangerous branches
of the work assume their overalls.

In the shops of nearly every description, men and
women, youths and young girls work together, and in
some departments a man is served by two lasses. In
the transfer and colour - dusting rooms, and in the
warehouse, women predominate, whereas only men
are engaged in the stacking of an oven and in the
firing.

A brief account of the processes in a pottery may
be here given.

After the clay has been thoroughly prepared, it is
given to the " thrower," who fashions upon the wheel
plain spherical articles, assisted by a woman called
a "bailer," who works up the requisite quantity of
clay, and passes it to him in lumps.

Irregularly shaped vessels are made in moulds by
"pressers," as also articles with raised or incised
ornament. Those who press plates are called " flat
pressers," whereas the "hollow-ware pressers" are
such as make tureens, vases, and the like.

The handles and spouts of cups and jugs and
teapots are made separately, and are applied after
the vessels have been turned to smooth them.

Each kind of work is done by a separate depart-
ment of workmen, termed " plate makers," " handlers,"
etc., according to the articles they make.

The "turner" shapes and roughly smooths the

FOOTINGS 163

vessel on the wheel, and it is then taken to the
" greenhouse," or drying-house, where it is thoroughly
freed from moisture.

Then, when furnished with its requisite adjuncts
and dry, it is " towed " by women. This is the
polishing of the ware, plates, cups, bowls, saucers,
etc., before they are sent to the biscuit fining. The
scouring raises much dust, which, if great precaution
be not used, is inhaled by the operatives ; and it is
in this process that so much injury is done to the
respiratory oi^ans.

Since iS94it has been imperative to employ fans
for the creation of a draught which shall remove the
dust, by drawing it away.

Pressed or moulded ware requires no polishing of
the surface, except the seams left by the joints of the
moulds, which have to be scraped away, and these
are removed whilst the clay is still moist. When the
article has been smoothed, and is dry, it is sent to the
oven, where it is burnt, and leaves it as biscuit china,
not so called because twice baked (bis-cuit), but
because it bears a fancied resemblance to biscuit in
consistency.

If the articles be of the commonest description
they now receive their enamel decoration ; but all the
better-class work is coloured upon the " glost" To
glaze the ware it is referred to the dipper, a man who
plunges it into a liquid mixture in which lead pre-
dominates; and which, being opaque, covers the

i64 THE FROBISHERS

whole surface, and, if already painted, obscures the
colouring.

He then hands the dipped article to girls, who
carry it away to be cleaned after the dipper, and
then to be dried, after which it is passed into the
glost oven, when, subjected to heat, the opaque flux
is resolved into a vitreous glaze.

The ware, on leaving the glost oven, is — if not of
the commonest character — transferred to the colour-
ing shops, where the coloured borders to plates, jugs,
etc., and floral patterns on tea and coffee pots and
cups are applied. Colour in a fluid condition is floated
on an engraved metal plate, kept hot, and then the
surface of the disc is carefully cleaned, leaving the
pigment only in the depressions. To this, paper is
next applied, which is pressed on the metal, and
when withdrawn carries the colour with it, transferred
to its surface. A young girl thereupon cuts the
paper as required, passes it to another girl, who
applies the strips or pieces to the article that has
to be decorated, and presses it with a rubber so as
to ensure adhesion. Then the paper is washed away.

This process is that of "transfer," and the article
thus treated is again submitted to fire, in the kiln,
which fuses the colours that are mixed with a flux, and
combines them with the body of the vessel to which
they have been applied. But "transfer" is not the
sole method employed. It is comparatively harmless
to those engaged upon it.

FOOTINGS 165

The mischief is done in the colour-dusting.

Sometimes the entire surface of the vessel has to be
coloured, with the exception, it may be, of some floral
decoration. How this is done, by oiling the surface
and powdering the colour on with little pads of cotton
wool, has been already described by Polly Myatt, and
need not here be repeated.

If a broad band of colour be required on a circular
article, as a plate or bowl, the medium is applied with
a brush, or " pencil," as the local term is, whilst the
vessel is spinning on a " wheel,"

Colour is afterwards dusted on. This is called the
" oil and dust " process. But if the pattern is to be
of an irregular shape, the "stencil" is applied. A
floral or other free pattern is never ground-laid but
applied at once with a pencil, and such a process is
perfectly harmless. Ground-laying is only for broad
flat surfaces of colour or for majolica.

The deadly nature of the colour-dusting has called
for the interference of Government; in 1894, rules
were made that were imposed on occupiers and
operatives. But these were hardly carried out with
the strictness necessary for their success, and they
were evaded — especially in the small workshops.

Again, in 1 898, the Home Oflice issued rules, which,
however, were not made compulsory, but were ac-
cepted by all the large firms and many of the
smaller. Further rules were settled by arbitration
in 1898, and came into force on January i, 1899. '^

i66 THE FROBISHERS

these rules be loyally carried out, and the operatives
themselves are careful, then much of the mischief
wrought by the lead and dust, as described in this
story, will have come to an end.

One admirable rule determined upon, is that a
certified surgeon shall visit and examine all the
women and young persons engaged in the dangerous
processes once a month, and he is empowered to
order suspension from employment. Moreover, no
person under fifteen years of age is now permitted
to be employed in any of those processes which are
especially harmful to young constitutions.

Whether the rules will be faithfully applied, every-
where, time will show. At present every case of lead-
poisoning that comes into the hospitals, or under the
notice of a doctor visiting private houses, has to be
reported and duly investigated. But the public
must be constantly on the alert against evasion of
regulations and neglect of wholesome provisions.

Painting with liquid colour is harmless. This is
performed by men and women. The highest class
work is done by men, and artists of great talent
are employed on this work, and are highly paid.
A skilled artist will receive from one to fifteen
pounds or more for decorating a vase or dessert
plate.

But the technique of the painting is one that
requires experience to acquire.

Colours change in the firing, and the painter has

FOOTINGS 167

to bear in mind this transmutation, and has to
apply his colours as he knows that they will eventu-
ally turn out after having been subjected to heat
in the kiln, not as they appear when he lays them
on.

Moreover, the medium is not easy of manipula-
tion, and the glazed surface is difficult to treat.

Sometimes a piece before it is highly finished has
to undergo repeated firings to fix the several paint-
ings and final touches that have to be applied
before it is considered complete ; and it is this that
renders such articles eminently costly.

By degrees " transfer " is driving true art farther
into the background. But mechanical work such
as that is no substitute for hand painting, in the
eye of any man of taste. It is, of course, cheap,
and that is its sole recommendation.

The painting is entirely in the hands of men, that
is to say, the art painting, but women are em-
ployed to put in lesser sprigs and flowers, and are
paid by the number they can do in a day.
. * . • • • •

Joan laboured under a fond delusion when she
supposed that she would be taken on as an artist;
but that she had yet to learn. The hope that she
might some day do better than work at that which
was mechanical buoyed her up.

When Joan entered the workroom, she saw that
she was at once an object of curiosity. She had

168 THE FROBISHERS

inquired of Polly whether it would be expected of
her that she should pay her footiag, and Polly bad

answered —

" Certainly — it would be sbabt^ not to do so."

But she had failed to inquire what amount would
be considered suitable.

As several girls came about her, Joan, with a
flutter of the heart, held out a couple of sovere^ns.

She had brought her old liberal ideas with her,
and could hardly have supposed that a florin would
have sufficed. What is usually done, when a new
hand comes into the shop, is for her to give a trifle,
and the rest of those in it contribute their coppers,
and with the sum all unite to have a simple tea.
Sometimes they wait till several have paid their
" footings," so as to have a great aflTair. But at the
best it is very simple. It grows out of the wide-
spread idea that a common meal serves as a friendly
introduction of the new-comer to her future com-
panions. The cup of tea is with these girls what the
salt is to the desert Arab.

To Joan this was, or seemed to be, a most eventful
occasion — a stepping into a new life, the beginning of
working for her own livelihood, and it did not for a
moment occur to her that what she offered was
excessive. Divided up, the sum would be but a
few shillings apiece — a cheap purchase of goodwill.

" What 's the meaning of this ? " asked Essie, look-
ing at Joan's extended palm.

FOOTINGS 169

" I wish to pay my footing," said Joan falteringly ;
" is it too small a sum ? "

"Small!" echoed Essie. "Take it back. We
don't want your money. I say, girls, look at her!
She wants to pay her footing with gold — and her
father, a farmer, died bankrupt, and the landlord
distrained, and sold the very bed from under her
and her sister — and left them nothing but what they
stood up in."

It was plain to Joan that a myth relative to her
fortunes was in process of evolution.

"All these two girls have got," proceeded Essie,
"is just some shillings kind friends scraped together
to start them in this place. She — ^this one — ^has had
to pay a month in advance for her house, and to
furnish it, and she has been giving a lot of us real
country butter."

" And butter is at one and fourpence," threw in
a girl. "And here she comes and offers us two
sovereigns for footings. Put them back in your
pocket, and bring out half a crown ; not one penny
more will we have."

" Really," said Joan, looking round, " things are not
so bad with me as Essie has represented. I can very
well pay."

" It won't do," said Lena. "Then if another girl came,
she'd be ashamed to be able to give only a shilling."

" It will never do," said several. " It will spoil
everything. We only want to be friendly. We don't

172 THE FROBISHERS

At home she had constantly been remarkable for
the disorder in which she left her own apartment, and
the amount of unnecessary work she made for the
servants ; and now that she was without attendants,
the faculty of order did not manifest itself in her.
Never in all her life having done anything to help
another, she now proved incapable of even helping
herself.

She had settled into gloomy indifference. Joan
did not scold her sister, though her carelessness was
sufficiently provoking.

Polly Myatt came in, whenever she could, to assist,
and, for the sake of the elder sister, disregarded the
ill - humour of the younger, and laughed away her
blunders.

At length Sibyll broke out —

"I can stand this no longer. Let me go into
the works and do something there. I was not
bom to be a household drudge. I daresay I could
earn money at the bank; I can do nothing in the
house. I believe an overall is really becoming; but
I will not be lead - poisoned even to please you,
Joan."

"I would not allow you to do anything that is
dangerous ; you know that," answered the elder. " I
will speak about you to Mr. Mangin."

Accordingly Joan took Sibyll to the office, and
asked the manager to be so good as to furnish her
sister with employment.

MR. MANGIN 173

Mr. Mangin looked Sibyll over in a manner
sufficiently insolent to flush Joan's cheek ; but he
disarmed her resent by saying —

" ril take her. What is her age ? "

" Eighteen."

" And a strong girl ? "

"Yes. But there is one stipulation, sir, I am
obliged to make — that my sister be not employed in
any of the departments where lead is in use."

"Lead, lead!" shouted Mr. Mangin, flaring up.
"What nonsense is this about lead? Lead we all
use — we cannot do without it. You cannot draw
water from a well without the employment of lead
piping to the pump. You cannot solder tinned fruit
and meats and vegetables without lead. You cannot
glaze your windows without white lead or putty, to
hold the glass in place. The tumbler out of which
you drink has lead in the composition of the glass.
You cannot employ hot-water pipes and gas pipes,
but red lead comes in for sealing the joints. It is
nonsense. Lead is just one of the necessaries of life.
You are a fool, and have been scared by fools. I will
tell you what the facts are. Every girl who wants
a holiday pretends that she has been lead-poisoned.
The wenches gad about at night in wet and cold,
when they should be at home. They catch a chill
that settles on the chest — and it is lead again. I find
fault with them, because idle and wasteful, and they
cry out that I have poisoned them. I will hear

174 THE FROBISHERS

nothing against the lead, Frobisher, and let me
inform you that if you say anything more on this
topic, the firm will endeavour to get along without
your valuable aid and meddlesomeness. Lead I lead
indeed t " He glared at her. " I can't say what goes
on at other banks : there may be slovenliness there,
there may be the use of a reprehensible amount of
lead, there may be raw lead used where fritted would
serve, but I am not answerable for them. In the
small and struggling banks there are none of the
niceties and precautions seen to in the large concerns.
But in Fennings ! there b not so much lead used in
the whole concern in a twelvemonth as would hurt a
fly. There I Get to your task ; your sister shall go
into the warehouse."

In the evening, on her return from the works, in
bounced Polly Myatt with a stormy face. She
planted herself with her arms folded, and her feet
well apart, just inside the doorway.

"What is the matter, Polly?" asked Joan, in
consternation.

" Matter t What do you mean by taking up with
Cissie Averill? Haven't I been your friend, and
faithful to you?"

"Yes indeed, dear Polly, and you are my friend
still, I trust."

"No, I am not You have chucked me over for
Cissie. It's too bad."

" But, Polly, I have not cast you aside. You are

MR. MANGIN 175

as dear to me as ever — nay, you become dearer to me
every day."

" Do I now ? "

" I assure you it is so. Not a day passes but you
show me some new kindness, do me some fresh
service, and I should be the basest of girls not to
feel this."

** Then why have you taken on Cissie ? "

" Why, Polly, because my sister is going to bank,
and we shall need someone to prepare our meals and
look to our house."

"Ain't I next door?"

"That is true, and next door to my heart also;
but I must not lay too much upon you."

** It is nothing. Did I ever cry out that it was
too much? I've naught to do at home but look
after things for father and mother, and that don't
take a prodigious time. Between whiles I can
attend to what is wanting here, and I like to do so
— it just serves as an amusement."

"That may be the case, but I feel scruples in
asking too much of you."

"Then you don't deserve to have me as your
pal."

"There has been another motive that has had
weight with me," said Joan gently. "Cissie has
become leaded. She has got the blue band on
her lips, and may fall ill any day. She is an orphan,
and so am I. She is homeless, and so was I till I

176 THE FROBISHERS

took No. i6. She is alone in the world, whereas
I have my sister and you."

"Well, then?"

" I felt that her case was worse than mine — for
she was ill and I am not. I am able to do some-
thing for her. What little has to be accomplished
in this house will not hurt her, unless she becomes
seriously affected. I considered that it was my
duty to attempt to help her. Should she break
down, then, indeed, I shall need all the assistance
you can give me and her. So I may have to ask
of you a great deal more than you will care to
give."

" Try me I " said Polly, relaxing, and her face
breaking into smiles. She half seated herself on the
table, one foot hanging down, and resting half her
weight on one hand. "Very well! I'll pass it over
for this once. I know Cissie is leaded, and has no
friends — and the Skrimagers talked of being shut
of her. So your sister is took on at bank ? "

"Yes, Mr. Mangin has accepted her,"

" I knew he would."

" Are there many vacancies ? "

" Oh, not that I but she is so pretty."

Joan looked disconcerted and alarmed. Presently
she rallied and said, smiling —

" You pay me a poor compliment, Polly. He was
very unwilling to take me on."

" Oh ! you — that was different He saw at a

MR. MANGIN

177

glance what you are. Anyone with half an eye can
read your face. You are not one to be got over
with smooth words. Give your sister a bit of
advice. She might not care to take it from me.
Say to her, 'Keep the table between you and
Charlie Mangin.'"

CHAPTER XIX

SOCIAL EVEKIKCS

^v'' soon as Joan bad an hour that she could
v" cv-fisider her own, she went " up bank," i^ up
IhUk t:^to the higher portion of the town, and rung at
'.iK- surgery- bell of a doctor of whom she had re-
,^1^^^^ an account as a man of probity, of much
^'X^vrience and good attainments.

She was shown into bis presence.

He was a rug^[ed man, with features rough-hewn
^y nature, and his hair bristling and resbting
attempts to smooth and arrange it — supposing such
attempts were made.

He looked at her attentively with sharp, searching
ej^es, and said —

" What is your name ? Where do you live ? "

" My name is Frobisher, and I live in the street by
Fennings' bank, in which I work."

"Humph! You were not bom here, don't belong
here, and were in better circumstances."

" Excuse me, sir, I did not come to your surgery

SOCIAL EVENINGS 179

to discuss where I was born, or what were my cir-
cumstances, but to obtain a professional opinion."

" Go on, then. What is the matter with you ? "

" Nothing. I am quite well."

" Then what the devil do you mean by trespassing
on my time? Time means money. What do you
want? Not to study my pretty face, and sniff at
my bottles."

"I have come about two friends," said Joan,
undismayed by his roughness, "both of whom have
been lead-poisoned."

" Oh, lead ! lead again ! et toujours le plomb fusque
d la finr

" Mais c'est vrai^' she answered, without a moment's
consideration, accustomed as she had been to con-
verse in French with her Parisian governess.

" Ah ! vous Hes moitU Frangaise f "

"Z?« taut, monsieur r* said Joan, laughing.
" Cependanty revenons d nos moutons ^U vous plait'*

"Bien, mademoiselle. What do you want?"

"As I said, I have two friends suffering from
lead-poisoning. One is merely deadly white and
languid, and seems to be devoid of energy — and I
notice there is a trembling as of palsy. The other
has lost the use of her right hand. She lives next
door, and is very dear to me, and I desire to know
whether the lead in both cases will lead to further
mischief, or whether the poison can be counter-
acted and the patients recovered."

i8o THE FROBISHERS

"Wliy have you not Imxigfat them here?"

" Because these are but samples of many cases ;
and I know that you must be familiar with all the
symptoms and consequences of lead-poisoning. 1
am associated with girls working in the deadly
processes of colour - dusting, glost - placing and
ground-laying, majolica -painting and ware -clean-
ing after the dipper. A stitch in time saves nine.
I may be of use, as 1 am in the bank, and in
daily intercourse with those in whom the poison
is b^inning to work, or who are merely menaced.
If I knew the proper treatment to adopt, so soon
as the symptoms apf>ear, bad cases might be checked.
Now as to the two about whom I inquire principally
— what is to be done? Can they be pulled round?
Both of these cases in which 1 am interested are
no longer subject to further contact with lead.
What is to be done for others, as they fall out of
health from the same cause?"

" You are a sensible young woman. I wish there
were more like you. The very best advice I can
offer, relative to such as show symptoms of
plumbbm, is to g^ve over at once."

"There one is met by this difficulty. The girls
have to earn their daily bread. They are in dire
fear of abandoning their places in the bank lest
others should step in whilst they are recruiting,
and so, when recovered, they find no opening for
them. For this reason, the poor things do all in

SOCIAL EVENINGS i8i

their power to conceal or disguise the ravages of
the poison."

" I know they do. More fools they."

" But consider. They have no sum of money on
which to fall back if taken ill."

" Their own fault. They have put it all on their
backs."

"Granted that some have been so inconsiderate,
yet it is not so with all. They are young, they
have not been long out of their apprenticeship —
and you must know that, as apprentices, their
earnings are very small. Suppose that they have
been receiving full wages for three or four years.
Out of this poor sum is it possible for them to
form a fund that will sustain them through the
months of enforced idleness, whilst they are slowly
recovering? However, I have not come to discuss
that point. I desire information. What is to be
done? I am bewildered. Some say lemons, some
milk, and some — but these are men — swear by
beer."

"Lemons are useless. Beer is of some value as
a solvent, and serves as an excuse for a soak."

" Will you write me a page of directions ? I assure
you that I will carry them out as fully and as
exactly as I am permitted by my not over docile
patients."

" I will do it for you, de bon cceurl' said the surgeon,
seating himself at his desk.

i82 THE FROBISHERS

" And, sir, it you please, be legible and do not
form the hieroglyphics intended only to be de-
ciphered by chemists."

The medical man laughed, and began to write.

Presently he looked up, and said with a mild
oath—

" I cannot see why in the devil's name we should
employ so much lead in our English potteries. I
have been at Sevres and at Limoges. Little is
employed there, or only such as is fritted, the lead
oxide united with silicic acid, so as to form a lead
silicate, which is almost harmless, though such as do
the fritting run considerable risks. With us, from
generation to generation it must be the same lead,
at the cost of health and life. There," said he,
thrusting a sheet of paper towards her, " I'll make
you up the stuff, iodide of potassium, as you require
it, and we shall never quarrel over the price — because
it shall cost you nothing. Iodide of potassium is the
one thing you will need, and let 'em tipple sulphuric
acid daily — diluted, of course."

With regard to her visitors, Joan found it neces-
sary to frame certain regulations and make
limitations.

Her first acquaintances were desirous of introduc-
ing others, their own friends, and pleaded hard for
them. In her workshop were girls who drew to
her as if influenced by a magnetic attraction.

SOCIAL EVENINGS 183

and who craved to be added to the number of
those who had the privilege of entrie to No. 16.

The evenings had grown into an institution, and
had, accordingly, to be given shape. The dimen-
sions of the parlour would not admit a crowd being
assembled in it. Joan had to fix days and hours,
and limit the visits of her friends to certain evenings
within specified hours. At first the girls sat over
the fire, and about the room, and gossiped, cooked
chestnuts, baked potatoes in the ashes, or toasted
apples. They told tales, sang, and took to playing
games.

Joan encouraged them to bring needlework,
stockings that had to be darned, and dresSes to be
mended. They were merry beings, amused with
trifles, pleased to be in Joan's parlour ; were very
candid in their opinions, frank in their judgments ;
very open in revealing their own foibles and
failings; and they were much disposed to make
a confidante of their hostess.

Sibyll unbent slightly, but never treated the
girls as equals, always addressing them in a tone
and with a manner that implied her own superiority.
Joan saw that this wounded, and would have been
resented had not her visitors been willing to swallow
their mortification upon her account.

'' I do think this is really too bad," said Sibyll one
day.

" What is too bad ? "

i84 THE FROBISHERS

" A piano. You are never weaiy of twanging
on the string of our straitened means, and yet — beie
comes in a cottage [Mano. You know that I am not
musical and do not care to play, and that you have
no time for hammering on the notes. This is, simply
and solely, good money thrown away,"

" But, my dear Sibyll 1 "

" I know what you are about to say — that you have
bought it so as to accompany those girls in their
singing. As it is — you do a great deal too much
for them, much that is most uncalled for."

" My dear Sibyll, you are premature. Not a
penny of our money has gone for this piano. They
have clubbed their poor little savingp together, and
without a word to me have hired it for the winter
months. It is most kind."

" Kind I really, Joan, you are bewitched. They
have done it for themselves, for their own pleasure."

" It is intended as a pleasure to me. Tell me
frankly, Sibyll, are they not nice girls?"

" For their class they are not amiss — but, of course,
they are not ladies."

" Sibyll, we are, after all, made out of the same clay.
Some are biscuit, some have been passed through the
dipper's trough, and have been glost over. 1 am not
sure that the dip or the colour-dusting that you con-
sider qualifies the lady is not in some cases deleterious.
That which constitutes the true lady is the stuff under-
neath, the ware, and not the glost — good feeling, con-

SOCIAL EVENINGS 185

sideration for others, a clean mind, and an honest
heart; and that these girls have. Sibyll, there is
coarse brown ware that is flashed over with a film
and looks very fine, but every chip reveals the mean
material beneath."

" We shall never think alike," said the younger, and
put on her hat and cloak.

" Why ! Where are you going ? " asked Joan.

" Out. I am not bound to be here all the time that
you have your Ai Home, and I won't."

Before Joan duld detain her, she had whisked
through the door and was gone.

Next moment Polly Myatt came in ; she looked
doubtfully towards Joan, and stood rubbing her
maimed hand with the other.

" What is it, Polly ? " asked Joan. " I have got to
know you so well that I can read your mind in your
honest face at a glance. You are wishful to say
something, and yet do not quite know how to say
it."

" It IS this," answered the girl. " I don't want to
seem to be a sneak, but — your sister is so young."

« Well, and what of that ? "

" There has been Caroline Grosser waiting for her
a few doors ofT, and they have gone into the town
together."

" Caroline Grosser — I do not know her."

" But your sister does. She is not one of us. She's
a bit wild. There is no real wickedness in her, but

i86 THE FROBISHERS

she's giddy, and she is no good company for your
sister. That is what I say, but do not call me a
sneak, I wouldn't have harm come to her, and bring
trouble thereby to you, not for all that Fennings'
bank is worth,"

CHAPTER XX
A HAMPER OF HOLLY

TWO days before Christmas Hector Beaudessart
arrived at the station together with a large and
heavy hamper, which he consigned to the porter, and
bade him take charge of it till it was called for.

Hector was not quite easy in his mind in accom-
panying the promised supply of holly.

The Frobisher girls had distinctly emphasised their
desire not to be traced ; but a good deal of concern
had been prevalent in the neighbourhood of Penda-
bury as to their fate. Some thought that they were
in a condition of real destitution, and that they had
disappeared from the district, ashamed to have their
state known and talked about. They had no relations,
though they had many friends.

Rumours more or less extravagant and absurd
circulated concerning them.

Hector's mother had been greatly troubled on their
account, and Hector's mind had been disturbed.

At length the tension became unendurable ; he
resolved on risking the displeasure of Joan Frobisher,

i88 THE FROBISHERS

and on discovering in what condition she and her
sister actually were, so as to intervene in a peremptory
manner, should they be in difficulties. He was de-
termined, if possible, not to show himself, and not to
allow them to become aware that he had made
inquiries about them. He would but satisfy his own
mind and that of his mother, without disconcerting
Joan, unless there were real occasion for his appearing
on the scene.

He was too honourable not to shrink from the
semblance of doing an ungentlemanly act, such as
prying into the condition of the girls might be taken
to be. Yet he felt that a duty devolved upon him to
act, so far as might be, as their protector, against
possible dangers into which, in their ignorance of the
world, they might unwarily step. They were young,
and had no natural guardian ; they were badly off, and
someone must assume a right to see that they did not
succumb under their misfortunes, and no other person
had so great a claim to do so as himself.

By this means he satisfied his conscience.

As Hector stood outside the straggling station,
looking up a long road that had not as yet dared to
call itself a street, doubtful what to do and whither to
go, he was accosted by an urchin of apparently twelve
years, to judge by his size, but with an old-young face
that might belong to one at any age under twenty.
The eye was bright and the face smooth ; there were,
however, hollows under the temples, and sunken

A HAMPER OF HOLLY 189

cheeks and a pinched throat that proclaimed priva-
tion.

" Shall I carry your portmantle, sir ? "

" No, thank you — not just now. Let me see. Do
you belong to the station ? "

"No, sir, the station belongs to me. Tm one of
the gen'l public, and if the gen'l public didn't favour
it, where'd the Co. be as runs the line ? "

" Are you here all day ? "

" Yes, sir, and part of the night."

"I daresay you would not object to earn half a
crown ? "

^None at all, but why split it? Stretch a point
and make it a crown. But nothing underhand, you
know."

" No impertinence ! There is a hamper of holly
left at the station to be called for. I want you to
watch and discover who fetches it, and whither it is
taken, and then to inform me."

" Shell out ! " shouted the boy. " Right you are."

" What do you mean ? "

"I'm the chap commissioned to fetch that there
'amper when it arrives."

" It is addressed to a Miss Frobisher."

" I know her, Joan. She's a topper. She sent me
arter it yesterday, but it hadn't come to 'and ; so I
was bid look out for it to-day. I've earned that 'arf-
crown fair and honourable, so you plank up at once."

" You scaramouch, you shall have it. Go at once

192 THE FROBISHERS

blackened, rain-soddened under a sky like a ragged,
dripping umbrella. Not a bush, not a tree; only
coils of smoke rolling across the sky. Moisture
trickled from the grimy faces of the habitations like
tears of diluted blacking. The wet wind piped in the
electric wires. Trams ran by screaming. No sign of
beauty, no sound of sweetness, no savour of health
were there.

" Boy," said Hector, striding to the side of the lad,
" can you tell me whether — Miss Frobisher is likely
to be at home when you arrive with the hamper ? "

" And you tailing 'arter ? " asked Tom, winking.

" Is she likely to be at home, I asked."

"Give me a cigarette, and Til return you an
answer."

" It is bad for an undersized chap like you to smoke.
Tobacco is poison to children," said Hector, neverthe-
less giving the boy what he had desired.

"Then you should *ave the sense to deny me,"
retorted the boy. '* YouVe no moral courage, and no
'igh principles, you 'aven't, and I'm ashamed of yer.
YouVe of a piece with the gen'l public, you are. The
gen'l public when they wants a thing will 'ave it,
and don't care what sufTrin' and ill is done to those
who pervide — so long as they gets it."

" But you," said Hector, " knowing it to be bad for
your growth, should refrain from smoking."

"Bah! To make me grow, it requires beef and
mutton. It's none of them I'm like to get. I'll enjoy

A HAMPER OF HOLLY

193

my cigarette, and when my time comes, Til turn up
my toes to the cinders, as there ain't no daisies to
turn 'em to."

" You have not answered my question."

" The gals will be at the bank."

" What bank ? The Staffordshire County Bank ? "

" Get along with you for a greenhorn. The potbank
is where they are, making ware for you to eat off and
drink your corfey out of and wash your 'ands in. Do
you twig now, guv'ner ? "

" Are they working there ? "

"You don't think they're gone there to choose a
twenty guinea set o' dessert plates, do you ? "

" What is your name, boy ? "

"If yer want to draw me out a cheque, it's Tom
Treddlehoyle, Esquire, of the Marlpit corner."

"Tom, answer me civilly, and serve me
honestly " —

"Couldn't do no other," interrupted the urchin.

" And I will reward you handsomely. Do you
mean, in sober seriousness, to tell me that Miss
Frobisher " —

"Oh! ah! it's the elder you're thinking on."

"Be quiet and attend to what I say. Do you
seriously inform me that the Misses Frobisher are
engaged in a pot factory as common hands ? "

"They're rather uncommon hands, I take it,"
replied the lad. "For one is a right and left hand
together, and the t'other is just no hand at all. Of
13

194 THE FROBISHERS

course they work. How else is folk to live? Don't
you work ? "

Hector was silent for a few moments.

He thought of Pendabuty and its luxury, and the
contrast in the life of these girls ; between its ease and
indulgence at one time, and its present toil.

" Tom," said Hector after a while, " I do not wish to
let myself be seen by them nor that they should know
that I have instituted inquiries about them. They
have friends who will not allow them to want."

" They are not like to want — unless they get
leaded."

"Leaded!"

"Ay, poisoned with the lead. Many do. They
must take their chance with the rest. There — this
is the street, and yonder is Fennings' bank, where
they work. No. i6 is their house. Will you
knock ? "

" No," said Hector, " I do not choose to be seen.
Tom, seal your tongue with this," and he put
half a sovereign into the lad's hand.

CHAPTER XXI

A CHRISTMAS DINNER

IN the evening, when Joan and Sibyll arrived
from the bank, they found the hamper in
their back kitchen, whither it had been carried
by Tom and Cissie.

On being opened, it proved to contain, as might
have been suspected from the weight, a good deal
more than holly — a goose, a ham, a plum-pudding,
and mince pies.

There were flowers as well from the greenhouses —
primulas, Roman hyacinths, azaleas, salvias, and of
holly abundance, rich with scarlet berries — suflicient
to enable Joan to redeem her promise at the bank.
On top of all was a card :

" WitA Mrs. Beaudessarts warmest greetings for
Christmas^ and best wishes for the New Year,'*

" Some of the holly and flowers for the church
first," said Joan. " After that a good bunch to every
one of those to whom I undertook to give a sprig.
I shall add a few flowers, and what is over is for
our girls."

196

196 THE FROBISHERS

Sibyll was pleased at the sight of the good
things.

"It is very thoughtful and kind of Mrs. Beau-
dessart," said Joan.

" Bah ! she can afford to be generous, now she has
taken everything from us," observed Sibyll.

" You do not know her, or you would put a more
charitable construction on her conduct," observed
Joan.

" Oh, I do not doubt that it is kindly meant. At
the same time it aflfords a certain amount of satis-
faction to be gorgeously patronising."

" For which reason you take up Caroline Grosser."

"Caroline! Oh, she serves to pass the time.
She is lively and amusing. I have as much right
as have you to choose friends among the lower
classes— now that we are debarred from associating
with those who are on our level."

" Let her come and take part in our little homely
gatherings."

" No, thank you. She does not care for your lot
of girls, and it is a relief to me to get out of their
way."

To this Joan made no reply. Presently Sibyll
remarked —

" What I disapprove of, Joan, is that the girls who
come here treat you with familiarity."

" You have not heard them say one rude word."

"Perhaps not, but they do not regard you with

A CHRISTMAS DINNER

197

the deference that is your due as a lady by birth
and education."

"I have no right to expect that. They know
nothing of our former condition. I have no com-
plaint to make against any of them. They are
always kindly. They are readily swayed by my
wishes, and willing to accept my advice, which,
indeed, they seek. But it would be presumptuous
in me to dictate to them or exact from them what
they are not willing cheerfully to accord."

" We are ladies, and, thank goodness, some people
are not so dense as to fail to observe that."

" To whom do you refer ? "

" To Mr. Mangin, for instance. He has remarked
me, and invariably singles me out from the rest
He is most respectful, and never presumes. As he
told me himself one day, he knew a lady when
he saw her."

"Does Mr. Mangin often go into your work-
room ? "

" Off and on — and it makes the rest jealous to see
how much notice he takes of me."

" Remember what Polly said : Keep the table
between you and Mangin. I do not like what I
have both seen and heard of that man."

"Oh, those who are not spoken to growl with
spite. He is a gentleman, that is to say, as far as
a man can be a gentleman who is in trade. He is
only manager, but some day will be a partner. The

i^Mi

^aC

-3..

198 THE FROBISHERS

Fennings have a fine country seat, and do not often
come in — they leave everything with Mr. Mangin.
When he becomes one of the firm I have no doubt
he also will buy a place and take on some fellow
to look to the business, and himself keep clear of it
— except, of course, drawing money out of it."

Joan was uneasy, but deemed it prudent to say no
more on the matter.

Sibyll was self-willed in the old days at Penda-
bury, and now under a reverse of fortune had turned
stubborn and contrary. She seemed to derive a
positive pleasure from taking up and pursuing a
course which did not commend itself to her sister.
She was vain, and what Joan dreaded was lest
Caroline Grosser should play on this quality, and
draw her sister into objectionable society, to the
objectionableness of which she would be blind if she
were made much of; and she feared lest the atten-
tions of Mangin should be encouraged through this
same infirmity.

" I do not see that Cissie Averill is going to be
much good to us," said Sibyll. "She is dreadfully
slow, and sits more than half her time mooning over
the fire. I really do think that, if we took a servant,
we should have engaged one likely to be more
useful."

" We pay her nothing," said Joan.

" But she is hardly worth her keep."

" She is suffering from the effects of lead, but this

A CHRISTMAS DINNER

199

will work off in time. I have been to the doctor
about her, and" —

" This tops everything ! " burst forth Sibyll. " We
have to pay a doctor's bill for her, and medicines —
I have seen the bottles — and you have ordered in a
preposterous amount of milk."

" It is required for her."

" Good heavens ! Are we to live for our servants,
or are they to live to minister to us?" exclaimed
Sibyll, boiling up.

"We all live for each other, are bound into one
body ; if one member suffers all the members suffer
with it — that is what an apostle said, nearly two
thousand years ago, and the world has not yet taken
it sincerely to heart. I know that Cissie is trembling
on the verge of a breakdown of the entire nervous
system. Unless she be treated aright now, she may
become paralysed as is Polly — even worse — and then
there would be no chance of recovery. That is why
I have taken her. I am going to turn up my sleeves
and fight the lead, and rescue her young life."

" And convert this house info a hospital ? "

" She will become daily more serviceable to us as
we get the lead out of her blood. Now she is a mere
wreck."

"What is milk a pint, I'd like to know?" asked
Sibyll, and then, "You have been getting eggs as
well, and not for my eating. Are they also for our
servant ? "

humane and Christian, and all that sort of
but I cannot go your length. Charity, I he
heard, begins at home."

"And, never leaving it, becomes selfishness

Cissie did bestir herself over the prepara'
Christmas dinner.

She had Joan to assist her, but the sight, t'
of the goose were enough to stimulate tl
languid faculties, and the steam of the plum-
to quicken the pulsation of the feeblest heart

Practically the greater portion of the coo
to Joan herself. She had gone to church in
early morning so as to allow her sister t(
later, and to give herself the house clear
grand preparation of the midday meal.

She laid the white cloth, arranged kni
forks, placed a glass in the middle of the t:
Christmas roses and holly in it — flowers an
as she said to herself, "from dear old

A CHRISTMAS DINNER 201

than if it had been laid by a butler, and the
spoons and forks had been of silver instead of being
plated.

The room was redolent of roast goose.

She was awaiting her sister and Cissie, looking
with pride, now at the table, then taking a peep at
the meal that was being cooked, when a tap sounded
at the door, and, without any response, Tom Treddle-
hoyle entered.

" Here I am," said the urchin. " I laid awake all
last night kicking myself to be sure not to forget
that I was invited to dine with you to-day. I wish
yer all the complerments of the season, and an
'appy New Year, and an 'usband, and plenty of
them."

Joan laughed, but she was somewhat disconcerted.

" I promised you a cut from our plum-pudding,
Tom, no more than that"

" Ah ! " said the boy, " and me sniffin' goose now.
You can't deny me a slice of that I ain't particular ;
rU put up with the breast. To tell yer the truth,
now, I've never had a bit o* goose atween my teeth,
no, never, and goose and Joan Frobisher will ever
be together in my mind from this day."

The little wretch had done his utmost to make
himself respectable. He had washed his face and
hands, not perhaps as exactly as you or I would
perform the operation. As it was, it left the nails
ebonised, and grime lurked in the furrows of his

2ta THE FR06ISHERS

face and neck. He bad done what be could to fasten
bis rags togetber, by darning and pinning, and be
had combed his hair as well as was feasible with ten
fingers.

The eflTorts he had made to render himself
presentable only brought out into prominence the
misery of the boy, his sharp features and the
bones of his skull, and revealed bow colourless was
his lace, hollow his cheek, and how sunken were
his eyes.

Now and then he coughed. Altogether a pathetic
figure, and Joan's eyes became soft and her lips
quivered as she looked at him. He glanced up at
her — saw what was in her face, and a light, a trans-
forming gleam, passed through his countenance and
burnt in his eyes as he smiled in response.

At that moment in came Sibyll, and stood stock
»till, holding her hymn and prayer book, and
stared.

" What is this fiend here for? " she asked.

" Come to dine with you, my dear, by spedal invite,"
answered the urchin.

"This is beyond all endurance," exclaimed Sibyll,
flushing dark red. "I cannot, and I positively will
not, eat my Christmas dinner if this horrible cobbold
comes near the table. He is enough to turn any
stomach."

"Younn 'ooman," said Tom, "a king of creation
feeds by himself — and his slaves by theirselves. I

A CHRISTMAS DINNER 203

reserves to my private use the back kitchen ; it's nearer
the goose and the pudden."

" He wheeled the hamper from the station," said
Joan apoli^tically. " It is but fair that he should
have a taste, and take toll of the good things he
brought us."

" Then," said Sibyll sarcastically, " I presume you
have invited the stoker and the driver of the train in
which they came, and the woman who plucked the
goose, and the negroes who grew and prepared the
sugar, and the farmer from Corfu, who collected
and dried the currants? They have all contributed
to our dinner, and have just the same right to share
in it"

" Sibyll, he shall sit by the fire in the back kitchen,
and Cissie will be only too pleased to attend to his
needs. Listen to his hollow cough ! "

So it was arranged, Tom was content, and dis-
appeared.

As soon as he was gone, Sibyll's good-humour re-
turned, and the dinner passed off without unpleasant-
ness.

When it was over, Joan put four mince pies into a
paper bag, twisted up the comers, and took them
into the back kitchen. She had ascertained from
Cissie that the youth had eaten as much as was good
for him. These she intended for him to take away
and consume as he was able.

She heard him cough, and on entering noticed that

204 THE FROBISHERS

he was planted on a low stool by the fire, with one
leg over the other, and the foot rused. At once she
exclaimed —

" Why, Tom, you poor fellow ! You have no soles
to your shoes."

He laughed.

" I goes in for appearances, I does. Soles don't
show. I've not bad a balance at my bankers, so I
'ave 'ad to be savin' in shoe leather. However, times
be mendin', and I'm going to indulge in a new pair
for the New Year. The gem'man gave me half a
yellow boy. Look I " He spun a ten-shilling piece
in the air. " All for showing the way here." He
coloured. " Blow it, I've let the cat out of the bj^."

" What gentleman ? " asked Joan.

" I'm not going to say another word — no, not
another letter of a word."

" And you clear out of this," said Cissie ; " we want
the kitchen for washing up."

" I'll hook it, lest by accerdent you put me in the
pail."

He stalked through the little parlour.

As he did so, " Joan ! " exclaimed Sibyll. " What
does he mean, that horrible imp? Look what faces
he is making at you and me."

Tom had his tongue thrust into his cheek, and was
making grimaces and winking.

" Oh t ah ! " said he, and chuckled. " Relations, of
course. There's such a strong family resemblance,

A CHRISTMAS DINNER

205

ain't there ? He's got yer rolling black eye, and you
'ave his clusterin' brown 'air. Oh! eh! wanted, did
'e, to see where 'is young female relations 'ung out ?
Partic'larly the elder one 1 Fine ! "
And he was gone.

CHAPTER XXII

THEATRE TICKETS

ON the following evening, after tea, Joan sat down
to write a letter to Mrs. Beaudessart, thanking
her for the Christmas hamper. At the same time she
purposed intimating to her, as delicately as might be,
that she was aware that her place of retreat had been
discovered by means of the hamper, and that she
trusted it would not be divulged. For, indeed, she
could not consider the words dropped by Tom as
implying anything other than that Hector Beau-
dessart had tracked her.

She wrote —

*' I do not head this letter with our address, as my
sister and I are still particularly desirous of being left
undisturbed whilst we settle down into our new
quarters and new mode of life. We are well aware
of the kindness of our friends ; we are sure that they
are only too ready to press on us their generous and
well-intentioned assistance ; but we have resolved to
remain independent, and the many kind offers certain
to be made would only embarrass us. But pray

THEATRE TICKETS 207

assure everyone that we are in cosy quarters, are very
well, and active."

She looked up, and saw Sibyll dressed to go out.
The day was a general holiday, and Joan had remained
at home. Now evening had fallen thick and dark.
On that evening there was no expectation of the girls
dropping in, and Joan had calculated on spending it
quietly with her sister.

There was an indescribable something in Sibyll's
look and manner that filled Joan with apprehension ;
she remained with pen poised in her hand, and her
eyes fixed inquiringly on her. Sibyll manifested
uneasiness. She said —

" I should like to take the key with me, so as not
to disturb you, Joan, when I return. I may be
late."

" Late, Sibyll ! Whither are you going ? "

" I shall be with Caroline Grosser. In fact, we have
been given tickets for the theatre."

" Tickets for the theatre ! "

Joan was too greatly astounded to do more than
repeat the words.

" Yes," Sibyll explained ; " it is most considerate of
Mr. Mangin. He has sent me a ticket, and has given
one to Caroline, and we are going together. There
is to be a pantomime — * Cinderella,' I believe — and
a grand transformation scene. Life has become
so intolerably formal and dull here, that one is glad
of the smallest flash of brightness in it."

208 THE FROBISHERS

Joan had recovered herself.

"This is impossible, Sibyll," she said gravely.
"You cannot accept a ticket from the manager.
It is unseemly. You, who are so nice about re-
maining a lady, should know that to do so would
be indecorous."

" I don't know that. I have no reason to suppose
that he intends going with us."

" There should not be a doubt entertained on the
matter. It places you under an obligation to a man
at the head of the establishment in which you are
a hand, and he one who does not bear a high
character."

"That is mere slander,"

"It may be so — I trust it is so. But, Sibyll,
consider that our father is but recently dead."

" Oh, no one here knows that ! "

"Everyone in Fennings' bank knows it. And
to-day — Boxing Day — more than half the young
people from Fennings' will be at the theatre. I
really cannot allow you to go. In your own heart
I am convinced that you feel it would not be decent
to appear at the pantomime 'Pressed in deepest
mourning."

" I made sure you would growl."

" I appeal to your own good feelings. Sibyll,
with the thought of our dear father taken from
us not three months ago, can you engage in this
pleasure ? "

THEATRE TICKETS 209

The girl stood crestfallen and irresolute. Then
Joan said —

" My dearest, you have much to bear — I know it
well ; but do not act so that self-reproach may add
its sting to your present distress. Give me the
ticket"

" But Caroline is awaiting me at the head of the
street."

" Well, give me the ticket, and I will go to her and
explain why you cannot accept it."

Sibyll surrendered, but not with good grace.

Joan took an envelope and slipped the ticket into
it, then put on her hat and went forth.

At the extremity of the street, under a lamp,
lounging against the post, was Caroline, very smartly
dressed.

"Well, you have kept me waiting," said the girl,
not at the first glance noticing which of the sisters
approached, " and the wind cuts through one like a
razor. What! Where is Sibyll ? "

" Caroline," answered Joan, " I have come instead.
I have come to inform you that she cannot ac-
company you. As you are perhaps not aware, I may
tell you that our dear father died lately, and on this
account my sister is unable to go to a place of public
amusement."

"But," said Caroline, "Charlie Mangin will be
awfully put out I know he intends giving us a jolly
good supper afterwards at the Blue Boar."

210 THE FROBISHERS

" Indeed ! Did my sister know of this as well as
you?"

" No. It was to be a surprise sprung on her."

"Then I am most thankful my sister has declined
to accept Carrie ! do you consider how very indis-
creet it is in you to receive such a favour ? "

" Oh, there is no harm."

" No harm in a jolly good supper — but, do think
for a moment what will be said. How your character
will suflTer."

" No one will know. He is not going to the theatre
with us ; he has got some temperance or other silly
stuff meeting going on this evening, which he must
attend."

" The whole affair is bound to come out. There
are eyes everywhere ; in a pottery are many pitchers,
and all have long ears. Your own self-respect will
prevent you from rushing into so compromising an
act."

" Oh, I'm not so sure of that. I like a pantomime,
and I adore a good supper."

" This is thoughtlessness, Carrie, and nothing more,"
said Joan. " From all I hear of you, I learn that you
have a good heart, and your sole fault is want of
looking before you leap. You are now about to fall
into a trap. Do look ahead and mark where you go.
Tell me frankly, has not the notice taken of my sister
by Mr. Mangin been matter of comment in the
bank ? "

THEATRE TICKETS

211

" Well, I daresay it may have been so."

" And what would be thought of her were it known,
as it assuredly would be, that she had taken a theatre
ticket from him, and afterwards had supped with him
at the Blue Boar ? "

" Not alone — I was invited as well."

" Carrie, I am quite sure you have no evil intent.
But what shame and misery it would cause me if it
came out, what humiliation and agony of remorse to
Sibyll ! And what, think you, would be the public
verdict on you as the one who led her into such a
situation ? Now, my dear girl, I do entreat you not
to go."

" But he has ordered supper."

" You do not know it, you only suppose so. There
is plenty of time for him to countermand it if he has
given instructions for its preparation. Let me have
your ticket, and allow me to go to his house and
return it. I will say that, owing to my sister being
in mourning, she cannot accept his kind offer of the
ticket, and that with your good heart you have resolved
on keeping her company. You shall spend the
evening with us, Carrie. We will have in Polly Myatt,
and enjoy a game of Old Maid, or Sheep's Head. I
have goose giblets and mince pies for supper."

" Goose 1 where did you get goose ? "

" Some friends in the country sent it. And, in
addition, we have mince pies. Carrie, will not this
draw you ? "

212 THE FROBISHERS

" All right. I daresay I was stupid. Here is the
ticket. You really will explain matters ? "

" I will go immediately to Lavender Lodge."

" Mind his mother — she's awfully prim, and
swallowed a poker when young,"

" I shall know what to do. You go to No. i6, and
Sibyll will be delighted to have your company, and
do her best to entertain you ; so also will I, when I
return."

" I meant no harm — I really did not,"

" I know it, Carrie, I cannot tell you how I esteem
you for readily surrendering your pleasure to do what
you know to be right"

" Oh, for the matter of that, I can go to the theatre
at any time, and am not so hard up but that I can
pay for my own ticket. But goose giblets, I can't
get them every day, and I want to pile up good luck
for the new year by eating a lot of mince pies."

"No, Carrie, you cannot deceive me thus. It is
not the giblets, it is not the mince pies that induce
you to give up the pantomime, but your own true,
honest heart and healthy conscience,"

CHAPTER XXIII

LAVENDER LODGE

LAVENDER LODGE, the residence of the
managfer of Fennings' bank, where he lived
along with his widowed mother, was not a large
house, for, indeed, in this pottery town there were
few large houses ; but it was distinguished from the
habitations of the artisans by having a window on
each side of a central door, and the doorway was
decorated with a pair of pilasters, and a pediment,
painted drab, and repainted annually to preserve
them from absolute nigritude.

It had an upper storey with three windows. The
house was set back from the street, as though it had
withdrawn itself in conscious superiority, leaving an
oblong open space between the front of the house and
the street from which it was railed off.

This space, supposed to be a garden, contained two
quadrangular beds of black soil composed of frag-
ments of tile and cinders, and a modicum of earth in
worm-cast, with a pyramid of clinkers in the midst
of each, serving as rockeries, in which, however, no

218

214 THE FROBISHERS

green thing grew except chickweed, which will grow
anywhere, and which adorns nothing, and a solitary
tuft of hart's-tongue fern that was only kept alive by
Mrs. Mangin sponging the fronds every week.

In a pottery town everything that elsewhere is
constructed of or laid in stone is dealt with in
earthenware. Accordingly, the footways are paved
with tiles, and kerbs of steps are of the same material.

From the iron gate, the iron of which was diseased
and broke out in rusty sores through the paint, such
a tile-paved path led to the front door, bordered by
terra-cotta edgings, of a florid character — the only
florid thing about a flowerless garden.

Joan ascended a couple of steps, and put her hand
to the knocker. By the time she had wiped her
fingers free from the dirt adhering to the hammer a
maid appeared, who asked what she wanted. Joan
replied, and was invited to enter the lobby, and the
servant spoke with Mrs. Mangin through a side door
into one of the sitting-rooms.

Then a stiff old lady, tall and hard in face, came
out, looked scrutinisingly at Joan, and having appar-
ently satisfied herself, asked what she required.

" I have come here to see Mr. Mangin about a
small matter."

" He is out, but expected shortly. Can I take a
message ? "

" I wish particularly to give it to him myself."

Again the widow studied Joan, and said, "If you

LAVENDER LODGE 215

like, you may come into the room and sit down. It
is chilly in the passage, and I daresay Mr. Penning
will not object."

She led the way into a little parlour, that served
for a dining-room, as might be judged from the
existence of a cruet-stand on a sideboard, and from
a general flavour of stale meals that clung to the
atmosphere. The walls were covered with leather
paper. Against that, opposite the window, and
above the sideboard and cruets, hung in heavy
tarnished gold frames the portraits of the late Mr.
Mangin and of his wife, taken ten years previously.

The painting was hard and unidealised.

The pictures were calculated to strike the impartial
observer with wonder that the late Mr. Mangin should
ever have been drawn by tender feelings towards so
wooden and grim a lady, and that the lady could
ever have been induced under any consideration to
swallow such a pill as the late Mr. Mangin.

By the table sat an elderly gentleman, leaning his
elbow on it, and with his chin in his hand.

"You will not mind, Mr. Penning, if I let this
young lady sit here ? She wishes to speak with my

son."
"Not at all. He will be here soon, I think you

said ? "
" I trust so. If you had written word, he would

have made a point of conscience to await you."

" A bit of business was thrust on me — one does not

216 THE FROBISHERS

expect orders to rain in on Christmas and Boxing
Days. I drove over at once on receipt of a letter by
the evening delivery. I can wait a few moments,"

He looked at Joan, who had taken a seat near
the door. Mrs. Mangin misinterpreted the look, and
said —

"Of course she shall wait your convenience, till
you have had your interview with Charles."

"Not at alL Ladies take precedence." Then a
little doubtfully, " You are not in any way concerned
in our business — Fennings* bank?"

" Yes, sir, I am in it — in the painting-room," and
Joan rose from the chair to make answer.

" Sit down, sit down ! " said he emphatically.

" Oh, I am so sorry ! " exclaimed Mrs. Mangin. " I
did not for a moment suppose — in fact, I thought
that she was a — a" —

"It is all right," interrupted Mr. Penning. "Let
her remain. She is what you thought, a lady."

Mrs. Mangin, however, went up to Joan, and in a
hard voice, and with cast-iron features, said —

" I have little doubt that I can do what you want.
My son will have business that is sure to occupy him
for some time, and I cannot have him interfered with.
Mr. Penning is very good to waive his right, but in
my own house I insist on such order as approves
itself to my mind and to my sense of fitness. I have
no idea of a * hand ' taking priority over a ' head/ I
suppose your matter is a small one."

LAVENDER LODGE

217

" It is so, madam."

" Well, let me manage it for you."

" It is this," said Joan, and the colour rose and then
died out of her face. " Mr. Mangin has been good
enough to offer a couple of tickets for an entertain-
ment to my sister and a friend of hers, and I have
come to return them, as neither can avail themselves
of his courtesy."

" I can tell him that. Let me have the tickets."

" I should much prefer putting them into his hand.
It seems so rude, after a civility, not to explain the
refusal."

Mrs. Mangin shrugged her shoulders, then turned
to Mr. Penning and explained.

" A meeting of the Philanthropical Society comes
off to-night, and my son is on the committee. There
is to be a lecture on public bathing establishments
and wash - houses. Statistics have been gathered
as to the number of persons of the lower class who
have made use of the baths. It is interesting to
know to what extent the working classes appreciate
cleanliness, and whether the desire for the outward
application of water is on the increase among them.
I have heard my son dilate on this topic. Of course
it is important that those of the class whom it is
desired to benefit should be induced to take an
interest in the matter, to whichever sex they belong,
I believe that the Philanthropical Society intends to
approach the Town Council with a memorial to

218 THE FROBI5HERS

induce it to establish public balbs ; bitt first of all
it is requisite to haTc statistics, plans, elcvatioos, and

" I sfaoald hardly have supposed tint tickets
would have been required for admissioD to such
a meeting," said Mr. Fcnning. " Is there sncfa
avidity anx>ng the operatives of both sexes to
hear statistics and consider estimates, that this is
rendered imperative?"

"There is no telling," answered Mrs. Mangin, in
her hard, unsympathetic voice. "This is Boxing
Night ; the room might on such a season be invaded
t^ a rabble inclined to uproar, who would pass
counter resolutions. It might be eminently un-
pleasant. My son and others who think seriously
considered it advisable on this evening to provide
some wholesome attraction of an improving nature
that might withdraw the higher principled and r^ht-
thinking young people from the pantomime and
other frivolous, not to say dangerous, entertainments
of the night"

" Indeed. How good of him, and how enticing
the counter-attraction offered seems to be,"

" Lnok here," said Mrs. Mangin to Joan, " I cannot
sec that there is the slightest necessity for you to
remain. Give me the tickets, and I will make
excuses for you that shall sufBce."

Joan hesitated.

" If you will allow me — they are in an envelope."

LAVENDER LODGE 219

She drew forth the envelope, moistened and sealed
it, then saw that she was being intently observed
by Mr. Penning.

" Perhaps you will kindly allow me," she said,
still colouring in flushes, and with quivering eyelids.
" I see a pen and ink on the table. I should wish
to address them, and to write a few words of apology.
One naturally shrinks from the semblance of ingrati-
tude. My sister could not accept. It is not three
months since our father died."

" But surely a philanthropic gathering concerning
public baths is not so jocular an entertainment as to
oblige you to stay away," said Mr. Penning. "Let
me look at the tickets."

" I have fastened up the envelope," answered Joan
hastily.

She had by this time addressed the cover, and had
written on it a few words.

The proprietor drew the envelope to him and
looked intently at the penmanship. It need hardly
be said that it was that of a lady.

" What is your name ? " he asked. " You have signed
with initials only."

Joan replied, aflTording him the information he
desired. He repeated the name: "Frobisherl There
was a Martin Frobisher, a navigator. I shall not
forget it, or you."

At that moment the front door opened, and in the
next Mr. Mangin entered. He started with surprise

220 THE FROBISHERS

at the sight of his employer, and then looked at
Joan with an expression of annoyance.

"I am really astonished to see you, sir, at this
time and on such a day," said Mr. Mangin, turning
to Mr. Penning.

"Business," replied the proprietor. " I had a letter
from the Rudyards, so I thought best to come over
immediately. But I can wait. This lady has some
communication to make to you."

" It is but this," said Joan, who had risen. She
held out the envelope to him. " You were so gener-
ous as to send to my sister and Caroline Grosser
cards of admission. My sister is sorry to decline ;
neither of us can go anywhere in our bereavement,
and Caroline, like a good soul, elects to remain with
my sister."

" Perhaps I can relieve you of the tickets," said Mr.
Penning, with a half-smile. He had been observing
the look of alarm and confusion that had come over
the face of his manager.

" I have explained," said Mrs. Mangin, " that they
give admission to the Philanthropic Society conver-
sazione or meeting, whichever it be."

" Quite so," observed Mr. Penning. " I should much
like to be there. I may be able to do a stroke of
business, and secure the order for the bath fittings."
He put out his hand, but Mangin tore the envelope
and its contents into many pieces, and threw the
fragments into the fire.

LAVENDER LODGE

221

" Sir," said he, " you require no card of admission.
We shall be but too proud to have you on the
platform."

Joan saw that it was time for her to withdraw.
She bowed respectfully to Mr. Penning and to Mrs.
Mangin, and turned to the door. As she did so the
proprietor of the bank gave her a kindly nod, that
seemed to convey to her a confirmation of his assur-
ance that he would bear her in mind.

CHAPTER 'XXIV

TOM TREDDLEHOYLE

A FORTNIGHT after Christmas, one evening
Joan was alone in No. i6 — that is to say,
her sister was out — when a heavy rap sounded at the
entrance, and on the door being opened a coarse man
with bloated face and watery eyes rolled in.

Joan retreated, and stood in the doorway of her
little parlour, supposing the man to be some sot who
had mistaken his way, and that she might meet with
difficulty in getting rid of him. But he saluted by
jerking his chin to one side and closing one eye, and
said —

" Beg parding, but this is No. i6 ? "

" The same."

" And you're Joan Frobisher ? "

" Also the same. What is there that you want of
me?"

"Well, not so much I — that is — but the bairn.
My lad, Tom, is ailing, and in bed, and nowt 11 do
with him but you must come and see him."

"Tom— what, Tom Treddlehoyle ? "

TOM TREDDLEHOYLE 223

"The same. He says you know all about 'im,
and he leaves me no peace but I must come and tell
you. Sez I to he, * Tom, shoo won't come to sic a
place as ourn ! ' but he sez, sez 'e, ' Cut along, old
dad, and try 'er. I knows 'er, and you don't.' Well,
I've come, and thou must please thysen — take or leave
as thou likest. But he's bad— dreadful bad."

"Tom is ill?"

" Ay, he is so. Coughs, and don't allow his poor
old dad enj'y 'is nat'ral rest."

" I will go with you, most certainly, and at once,
if you will show me the way."

" Thanky, lass. I'll go afore. I'm Mister Treddle-
hoyle, as comed from Baimsley in Yorkshire, origin-
ally. But I've been here most o' my time, bad luck
to it. There ain't no money to be addled here."

" How long has Tom been ill ? "

" Off an' on sin' Christmas. I thort at fust he were
'oarse wi' roarin' ' Christians awake ! salute the 'appy
mom.' But he's gone wusser and wusser."

" I am ready to attend you at once."

At the time the man was not tipsy, but he was
soaked with drink, so that at such seasons as he was
not intoxicated he remained in a sodden condition
of half stupefaction. He had lost all firmness of
flesh. His walk was a roll, and elasticity had deserted
his joints.

He wheezed and laboured along beside Joan, and
became confidential. He had been an admirable

226 THE FROBISHERS

Betsy O'Flanagan ! " Next, to Joan, " There's a
fine lot of entertainment to be got when the women
are washing, and it don't cost nothing. There's the
beauty ! "

On reaching the first landing, to which Joan
hurried in horror and disgust, Mr. Treddlehoyle
opened a crazy door, and led into a room, the ceiling
of which had in places fallen, exposing the laths, but
in others had brought the laths down with it, leaving
a black void.

A benzoline lamp stood on a box, and by its light
Joan saw a bed, or apology for a bed, near the
chimney-stack that rose through the room, without,
however, having a fireplace in it

The atmosphere of the house and room, notwith-
standing abundant facilities for ventilation, was
sickening, foul with the accumulated odours engen-
dered by dirty humanity, and not at all sweetened
by the exhalations of the washtubs below.

" Hah, guv'ner, I sed it ! I knowed she'd come,"
exclaimed a husky voice from a heap of dirty and
ragged blankets on the bed.

Joan took the lamp, went up to the speaker,
and raising it above her head, looked down on
him.

She saw little Tom, his cheeks flaming and his
eyes as sparks of fire. The attempt to speak brought
on a fit of coughing.

At once she took his hand. It was like a hot coal.

TOM TREDDLEHOYLE 227

She laid her palm on his brow and found that it was
burning.

" He is in high fever," she said. " My dear little
Tom, how came this about ? Have you not had your
new boots ? "

"Nay," said he; "the dad has drunk 'em away.
He was too sharp for me. One night 'e watched me
till I fell asleep, and then *e sloped wi' my yaller boy
that the gent gave me. It's been melted into gin and
swallered by now."

" Hold thy gab, lad ! It's nay such thing. Thou'st
lost it out of thy pocket."

" I have not, daddy. Thou'st been on the booze
ever since thou took it"

" Never mind about the fate of the yellow boy,"
said Joan, who dreaded an altercation between the
fevered child and the maudlin father. She turned to
Mr. Treddlehoyle and inquired whether he had sent
for a doctor.

" A doctor ! Not I. What's the good of a doctor ?
If the bairn's constitution will pull him through, no
doctor is needed."

" But one ought to be called in."

"Who's to pay?"

" What is your employment ? "

" I'm a thrower."

" Then I know exactly what your pay is — ^and out
of it you can perfectly afford to have the assistance
of a medical man."

230 THE FROBISHERS

"Tom," said Joan gravely, "do you know about
God?"

" Just enough to swear by," he replied.

" Tom, can you pray ? "

" I can cuss. That's about the beginnin' and the
end of my devotional exercises — as the Methody
sez."

Then the child fell to coughing.

From below surged up the roar of Mr. Treddle-
hoyle's voice in angry altercation, broken by the
shrill treble of a woman in quarrelsome response,
resenting some suggestion made by him. Then,
neither being able to convince the other by argu-
ment, both burst forth in a storm of mutual
vociferous recrimination charged with oaths and
blasphemies.

Joan started up.

"Tom, I cannot, I will not leave you here," she
exclaimed, with heaving bosom. " Will you let me
take and nurse you ? My dear, dear little boy."

He rose and threw his arms round her neck,
laid his hot head on her bosom, and burst into
tears.

Then she gathered the soiled blanket and wrapped
it about him, and, hudcHed thus, she lifted the little
fellow in her arms and staggered across the creaking
floor.

At the door she met Mr. Treddlehoyle.

" What are you doing with my kid ? " he asked.

TOM TREDDLEHOYLE

231

" I intend to carry him home. I will take sole
charge of him ; it is his only — only chance."

" You cannot carry him," said the father. " I will
do that. Give me the lad."

The stout man lightly, easily bore the burden that
would have been too great for Joan.

Presently the imp thrust part of his face out of the
muffling blanket, and said, " Dad ! She kissed me.
I axed 'er for a kiss once and she deniged it. But
she gave me one now unaxed. Crikey! We're
marchin' along."

CHAPTER XXV
nr THE OFTTCI.

JOAX swniDoncd PoDy My^tt, and die girl with
ready ^jcd nature agreed to faelp CEasie Averill
with the boy daring the day whilst ]can was at her
wf^k. The patient had to be made clean, with gentle
care and caution ; he wa^ placed in Joan's rmm, as
there Wis nont other available ; and she sorrcndeied
her r/«rn bed, and had one extemporised for herself
fin a v>fa that was brought up from the parlour.

Then ahc made ready to go to the doctor.

" Hai my sister come in ? " she asked, suddenly
ni-jticing that she was still absent

" She went up to town to change a nwel at the
library, and to buy some lace," said Cissie, " But — I
fr/und this »crap of paper in the grate. I did not
kn'iw what it was and opened it, and found it is a
nr/tc frt/tn Charlie Mangin — asking her to go to meet
him at the office at half-past seven — as he has some-
thing piirticular to say. I don't think she ought to

}fmn'n heart stood still for a moment. She had

INJTHE OFFICE 233

hoped that the manager's pursuit of Sibyll had been
stopped by her interference in the matter of the
pantomime tickets, but clearly she had failed. What
could she do to protect her sister, if Sibyll was so
inconsiderate herself as to suffer comthunications to
pass between them? She who had been most
tenacious of being esteemed a lady, was ready to fling
aside all the prudence and dignity that went to make
up ladylike conduct

However, she quickly recovered herself, looked at
her watch, and found that there was time for her to
summon the medical man, and then to reach the
office, on her way back, before her sister was due
there.

Sibyll assuredly would not think of complying with
Mr. Mangin's request, and keeping the appointment
She had been flattered by his attention, and by the
assumption of deference, such as sufficed with her to
disarm suspicion.

There were periods at which, when the work pressed,
the manager had to be at his office till late ; and such
was the case at present.

It was whispered in the bank that Mr. Mangin
was paying his addresses to Miss Penning, the
daughter of the proprietor, and it was supposed that
he built his hopes of being taken into partnership
in the Arm on his bringing the suit to a successful
termination.

If this were so, then what was the meaning of his

234 THE FROBISHERS

pursuit of Sit^ll? Joan recc^nised, with a sister's
pride, that Sibyl! was veiy pretty, aod this prettiness
was enhanced rather than obscured by the costume
adopted by the potters. Moreover, Sibyll coold be
very engaging in her manner. She did not usually
trouble to ingratiate herself with those of her
own sex; even from early childhood she had laid
herself out to attract the admiration of men, and
always with a success that had encouraged her in
this course. To draw upon herself the observation
of men, to be flattered and made much of, had
finally become with her a necessity of existence.
She had fallen from her social elevation ; but as
a change of skies does not change men's minds,
neither does an altered condition of life alter the
mood.

The advent of Sibyll in the pot factory had
certainly provoked some heart-burning among the
girls, for she had drawn the young men about
her — but she disdained the "hands," and gave
ihem no encouragement, though not repelling
them. The notice of the manager, however, had
been accepted greedily, as a homage that was her
due.

Joan had not supposed that her sister would so far
forget herself as to allow htm to propose an appoint-
ment ; and she could not think that Sibyll would
be so lost to all sense of propriety as to accept one
when sent to her.

IN THE OFFICE 235

Anyhow, it behoved her to forestall the chance of
such a thing.

That Sibyll could care for the man, a man objec-
tionable in many ways, she did not believe.

Unhappily, Sibyll had been made a great
deal of by her father, and had been humoured
in every way, and not corrected when supercilious
or disobedient to her governess and discourteous
to visitors — when these latter were of her own
sex. Having been allowed to follow her own
bent in times past, it was not easy to control her
now, and Joan felt that she would have a task
as difficult as it was delicate, to maintain Sibyll
upright on the slippery ground she elected to
tread.

The doctor was not within when Joan called at
his surgery, and she left word for him to visit No.
16, by Fennings* bank, in Fennings' Row, as soon
as he came home. Then she turned downhill, re-
tracing her steps till she reached the pottery, when
she proceeded at once to the office, where a light was
burning.

As Joan threw open the swing door, " So, you are
come ! " exclaimed Mr. Mangin from the farther end.
There was but one gas jet burning, and that was
above his desk, and some obscurity lingered about the
entrance. "I had hardly dared to expect you," he
added, as he closed his books.

" Yes, I am come," said Joan, " and come to ask

236 THE FROBISHERS

your purpose in sending such an invitation to my
sister."

Mr. Man^n fell back disconcerted.

" What ! You again ? "

" Yes, I again stand forward in my sister's behalf,
as her natural protector. I demand an explanation.
If you are, as I trust, an honourable man, there is but
one explanation that you can give — that you pur-
posed asking Sibyll for her hand. Is that so ? "

" You are premature," said the manager, recovering
himself, and biting his lip. " One would reasonably
desire to make acquaintance with a girl before com-
mitting oneself"

" And yet," exclaimed Joan passionately, " you
think nothing of committing her. Could you expect
her to respond to your invitation without doing so?
If you have become attached to her, and she is a girl
who is winsome, then know that we live in No. i6
of I'ennings' Row. Call there, and we shall be pleased
to see you."

" A proper proposal t 1 should have every window
thrown open, and a head thrust out of each to
observe me, and comment on my visit."

" Why not ? If you mean honestly, I say why
not? Then you can conduct Sibyll to Lavender
Lodge to call on your mother."

" Preposterous ! You ! — you, a pot-hand, dictate
conditions to met An upside-down world indeed
where this is the order."

IN THE OFFICE 237

"The world needs turning upside down when a
man, the manager of a large business, takes advan-
tage of his position and authority to disgrace a feeble
girl in his employ."

" Fiddlesticks I I had no ulterior object. I meant
no wrong."

" Is it no wrong inducing her to come to you after
hours, when the establishment is almost deserted,
deserted wholly save by such as are in attendance
on the ovens, to seek you here in your office ? This
must and shall come to an end."

" Indeed ! You lay down rules for me ! "

" I do, although I am only a pot-hand. I will not
suffer this sort of thing to proceed any further. My
sister is under age, and thoughtless. I am her
guardian."

" And what if I say I shall do as I choose ? "

" I reply that you shall not"

" What can you do to hinder me ? "

" I shall appeal directly to Mr. Fenning."

The manager stared at her stonily.

"You shall be turned out of the bank," he said
savagely, after a long pause.

"Then Sibyll shall accompany me. But, mind
you, Mr. Mangin, I shall not go until I have laid
the whole case before Mr. Fenning. He no more
desires this establishment to be a seed-bed of
scandals than do you that it should be known as a
nursery of leaded paralytics."

238 THE FROBISHERS

Mr. Mangin uttered an oath, turned his back on
her, and seated himself at his desk. He threw
open his book with an angry gesture, and began
to write.

Joan waited a moment, and then, seeing that he
was in no mood for further conversation, and regarded
the interview as at an end, passed through the swing
door and descended the steps.

Outside she was grasped by the arm, and
Sibyll, in a voice quivering with anger, burst forth
with —

" How dare you meddle in my affairs ? You have
spoiled everything."

" Sibyll ! I am grieved to see you here."

*'You need not. I know what Tm about. I am
sick of work, sick of association with operatives. I
hate it all. I had Mangin on a string, and he was
ready to marry me."

"I asked him his intentions. I invited him to
call on you at our house, and to take you to his
mother at Lavender Lodge, and he refused point
blank."

"You have no right to interfere; you are like a
bull in a china shop. The man is madly in love with
me.

"He is false. He has no intention whatever of
marrying you. He is likely to become engaged to
Miss Penning."

" Oh, that is potbank gossip."

IN THE OFFICE 239

" It may be so ; at anyrate, he declined to proceed
fairly with you. I am sure, Sibyll, you do not in
your heart care for him."

" I don't care for anybody, but I want to get
away out of this pottery, away from the smoke and
the hateful surroundings, and I am prepared to
marry anyone who will make me comfortable, give
me nothing to do, and allow me to spend my time
in amusement. And, let me tell you, Joan, that
matters have now reached a climax. I went back
to No. 16 to put down some books and things
I had brought, and I found that you had intro-
duced that horrible child, that little fiend — and
he in a raging fever; infectious I do not doubt,
scarlet or typhoid — one or the other."

" No, he has congestion of the lungs."

" It is all the same. There is a limit even to my
endurance, and I have been most forbearing. This
comes on the top of your meddling in my matter
with Mr. Mangin — which I am quite positive I
would have brought to a successful issue. Bless
me, Joan! you do not know how to lime your
twigs. And now, I will stand this no longer, no,
not another week. I shall look out for suitable
and respectable lodgings where I can be my own
mistress. I will not live in a fever hospital. I will
not be walked about with leading strings. Now
listen to me! Here is my ultimatum. Imprimis:
Turn that odious little brat out of the house at

242 THE FROBISHERS

Sibyll would listen to no explanation, hear no
petition in the boy's behalf. She adhered to her
resolution with stubbornness. She reiterated her
determination to look out for a lodging elsewhere,
in some house where there was no fever, and where
she would not be under the sway of a domineering
sister.

" I am really very greatly perplexed, Sibyll," Joan
said ; " I daresay I did wrong " —

" There is no doubt about it, you did very
wrong."

"Well — I did wrong. But the poor little fellow
was so ill, and his surroundings were so dreadful, that
I thought of nothing but how he could be got away
from them."

"Exactly — forgot me. I am accustomed to this
treatment, and I resent it. You should have sent
him to the hospital. What are those institutions for,
and why do we subscribe to them ? "

" Do you subscribe to the hospital, Sibyll ? "

"You know what I mean. People who have
money to spare subscribe, so as to get sick persons
put away, and not be a nuisance and trouble and
danger to them. If you had reported the case to
the relieving officer, you would have done quite
enough under the circumstances, and have a clear

conscience."

" Perhaps so," answered Joan, looking dreamily
down the street, " but — I did not think of it at the

A SECOND FAVOUR 243

time; I only thought of the little boy and how
miserable he was. I said to him, Will you come
with me, and let me nurse you? Then he put his
arms round my neck and jumped up in his bed. I
don't think I could go back from what I offered ;
it would be dishonourable. Besides, Sibyll, just
consider this. At the hospital — if he were there, he
would be kept only just so long as they were able,
and they would send him back to that awful place
again, and all would be undone. He wants attention
and good food and watching."

" Good heavens, Joan ! " exclaimed her sister, " you
don't mean to say you are going to keep this
little horror here indefinitely ? He will eat you out
of house and home; convalescents are ravenous
and dainty withal. Besides — I have pronounced my
ultimatum." Then she walked away.

Joan was in a sad dilemma. The only way out
of it that she saw was to persuade Tom to consent
to be removed ; and yet she shrank from proposing
this to him.

Joan was greatly astonished, and not a little
annoyed, on entering the parlour, to find Hector
Beaudessart there, seated before the fire, looking
through her photographic album.

At her entry he started up with an exclamation,
put down the book, and held out both hands.

" Cousin," said he, " I have daringly invaded your
queendom, disr^arded all your wishes, and cast

244 THE FROBISHERS

your injunctions to the winds. But I could not keep
away ; upon my soul, it is so ! Now that I am here,
laden with trespasses, let us have a talk."

She took a chair without a word. She had not
recovered her astonishment ; and she signed to him
to be again seated.

His face was bright, his eye alight; his glossy
brown hair curled about his head and rippled over
his brow. He was flushed on one cheek that had
been exposed to the fire.

Joan could hear little Tom coughing upstairs, and
Cissie rocking her chair as she sat by him. Her back
was to the window, and what light entered fell
on Hector's face; a pleasant face, that of a man
who could never do a mean or cruel thing, but
careless and happy.

"You have a hospital here, apparently," said he
lightly. " I hear that there is a sick lad overhead,
down with congested lungs or pneumonia, and is
being nursed, as I perceive, by an anaemic girl, whom
I have seen, for she came to the door when I
knocked. Another put in her appearance, with a
paralysed hand. She tells me that she half belongs
to this house. Can you guess what question she
put to me? She said, 'Do you want to see our
Joan ? ' "

" That is Polly, who lives next door, and is very
helpful. Indeed, I do not know what I should do
without her, now especially that there is this sick

A SECOND FAVOUR 245

child here. By the way, you know him, and gave
him half a sovereign for betraying where I lived."

" What, that audacious young vagabond ? "

" Yes ; and his father purloined the money when
the boy was asleep, and drank himself drunk on it.
So your gold coin ran down his throat in a stream
of bad beer. Tom had purposed buying himself a
pair of boots, but was unable to do so owing to his
father having taken the money. Then he got a bad
chill, and you hear the result."

"If he recovers he shall have boots from me, I
promise you."

" If he recovers ! — his condition is most pre-
carious."

" How the dickens comes he here ? "

" His father was incapable of attending to him, and
he has no mother."

" So you took him ? "

" It was the only chance there was for the poor
little wretch."

" In some points you are like my sister Julie."

" She found her purpose in life when only thirteen ;
I had to wait till I was three -and -twenty to find
mine."

He looked at her with a puzzled expression.
Presently he said —

" Really, cousin, this is hardly a proper place for
you. My mother has been distressed since I dis-
covered where you were, and what you were doing,

246 THE FROBISHERS

so that at last I undertook to brave your displeasure
and go and see you. She sends me with an urgent
message, an entreaty that you will leave this place."

" I cannot — any more than Julie can quit her
hospital."

"Oh, she enjoys * cases/ as she calls them. Give
her a good complication, and she is in the seventh
heaven."

" No, she does not enjoy them. You misread her.
She can throw her whole heart into a case that
makes great demands on her."

" But surely you do not mean that you are content
to stay in such a place as this ? "

" Quite content."

" And have no desire to leave it ? "

" I cannot leave it. I have found a place in which
I must be. Hitherto there has been in me a listless-
ness, a want of I knew not what, and now it is quite
otherwise."

" And nothing will induce you to abandon it ? "

" Abandon ! — nothing whatever."

"And no one has any power to prevail over
you ? "

" No one but my landlord, who may turn me out,
and then I would find another house."

" I do not understand you, I do not indeed — any
more than I do my sister Julie."

" Because you do not know what she and I know.
In ignorance is your bliss."

A SECOND FAVOUR 247

" But what of your sister Sibyll ? "

Joan's hands were clasped in her lap ; she com-
pressed them, and looked down in trouble.

" How about her ? Does she share your liking for
this black hole ? "

" No. She has a different nature from mine. Hers
is one that revels only in sunshine. She is a butterfly,
that folds its wings and shivers under a leaf in dark-
ness and rain and cold. Mine is more the nature
of a grub. No, I cannot say that this life suits
her."

" Then," said Hector eagerly, " listen to me. Will
you grant my mother this one favour ? On a former
occasion you unbent so far as to grant me one — to
send you a hamper of holly. Now yield to my
mother's entreaty, and send Cousin Sibyll to be with
her." Joan looked up with a gasp.

" You have but to say * Yes,' " proceeded Hector,
" and my mother will come here and fetch her away.
You do not realise how she desires it, and what a
favour she would esteem it Let me see — the day
after to-morrow. It will be good of you if you show
so great confidence in my mother."

" Yes," said Joan, and covered her face. She did
not cry, but the tears were very near the surface, and
a lump came in her throat. Her bosom was heaving
like a stormy sea. " Yes, yes," she said, " I thank
you a thousand times. Sibyll cannot stand this
existence. She was not made for it. One must be

250 THE FROBISHERS

and her power of resistance to an appeal from
them.

He dropped her hand with a sigh, and went
out

Joan put her hands over her face for a moment,
but only for a moment, then ran upstairs to see
Tom.

The doctor had been there, and would send
medicine. He trusted that he would be able to pull
the little fellow through — but the child demanded
the closest care and constant supplies of nourish-
ment

Tom was sleeping in the comfortable bed, his
dark hair spread on the pillow. The fiery face
showed like a carnation on snow.

Joan stooped over him, and remained bowed.
Cissie continued rocking. She continued in this
bent condition, looking down on the boy, for some
little while, partly contemplating him, partly occupied
with thoughts of the interview that had taken place,
and with the prospect of losing her sister.

The boy's sleep was broken by the strangling of
his cough, and now and then his eyes were seen, but
only to close again. The breath was very short
All at once the long-controlled tears filled Joan's
eyes, and one dropped on the sufferer's cheek. He
half disclosed his eyes, put up a hot hand and patted
her on the face, and then sank into unconsciousness
MEain.

A SECOND FAVOUR 251

Joan raised herself, and without speaking — for her
heart was too full for words — descended the stairs.

Sibyll had just come in, and was in a very bad
humour. She had been unable to find any lodgings
that were even tolerable at the terms she offered.

"My dear," said Joan, "are you still resolved on
leaving me ? "

" I am not going to live in a fever hospital."

" You shall leave the day after to-morrow."

"Whither?"

" For Pendabury. Mr. Beaudessart has been here
with a message from his mother about you, that
you will pay her a visit and remain with her inde-
finitely."

"Joy!" exclaimed the girl, her sulks falling off
like a wet dropped waterproof. "The thing of all
others to suit me. What about yourself?"

" I, of course, remain here.'

" I see no * of course ' in it'

" We cannot both burden Mrs. Beaudessart."

''Oh! as to burden, my dear Joan, I shall bring
life and light into the house. Trust me, I shall turn
Mr. Beaudessart round my finger. Take my word
for it, if I set my foot again in Pendabury, I shall
never leave it. The old woman can be packed off
to Rosewood. I bet you a ten-button pair of gloves
that, before a twelvemonth is out, I shall have made
him marry me."

Joan looked at her sister in some amazement, and

9»

-■ ■** ■ » ■ ■> • -*■

252

THE FROBISHERS

not a little distress. Presently, with a sigh, she said,
" Well, perhaps it would be for the best"

" There can be no perhaps in the case. Trust me.
I know the weak side of men. I shall manage it,
and become queen of Pendabury."

CHAPTER XXVII

NO GARDEN

JOAN sat up with little Tom till three in the
morning, when she was relieved by Cissie. He
had to be fed at intervals of half an hour with beef
tea, and given his medicine periodically.

Had she not been sitting up, she could not have
slept, owing to the noise in the adjoining house, that
commenced at eleven, when Mr. Myatt returned to
his family from the public-house in a hilarious con-
dition.

The disturbance began at the moment when he
tottered over the threshold, where he was met full
face by a volley of reproaches from his wife, which he
attempted to silence by butting at her with his bald
head.

Then ensued a heated altercation upon the stairs,
which he surmounted with difficulty and not without
lapses, as his wife preceded him, retreating back-
wards, lashing at him with her tongue, and slapping
at his bald pate with her hands, whilst Polly harassed
his rear by dragging at his coat tails.

268

254 THE FROBISHERS

In time, by sheer weight and force, he succeeded in
reaching the landing, where, taking advantage of the
obfuscation of his mind, wife and daughter succeeded
in inveigling him into Polly's room, and turning the
key on him from the outside. Once within, however,
the Myattpire awoke to the fact that he had been
trapped, and rained kicks and blows with his fist on
the door.

As these proved ineffectual, he next projected his
person against the valve, and with a crash came out
again on the landing. Whether he had actually burst
the door from its hinges, or whether, fearing destruc-
tion of property, Mrs. Myatt had, at the supreme
moment, unfastened the door, Joan was unable to
decide.

Whichever way he obtained his liberation, the
result was only reached by his prostration on the
floor of the landing.

From this position Mr. Myatt succeeded in raising
himself to a sitting posture, from which, like a
howitzer, he discharged oaths and profanities at the
heads of his wife and daughter, to which they replied
with expletives in high-pitched tones.

This continued for many minutes, till it occurred
to the gentleman to rise to his feet, which he did
with considerable difficulty, and then, in despite of
protest, entered his own sleeping apartment, which
adjoined that of Joan, divided from it, as we know,
by a single brick partition. When once there she

NO GARDEN 255

heard every movement and every word with such
distinctness, that Joan felt almost as if she were an
eye-witness to the domestic broil.

Arrived in his own bedroom, Mr. Myatt, in the
first place, proceeded to stretch himself and yawn
vociferously, and then to get into bed with his boots
on, and in a position the reverse of that usual, and
to cross his feet with a g^unt of satisfaction on the
pillow.

Apparently the passionate longing of his soul was
for sleep, and the efforts of his wife, ably seconded
by his daughter, were directed towards making him
do so in the approved position.

Thereupon ensued a ^momentary lull, during which
Mrs. and Miss Myatt by signs concerted a surprise
attack, and then, suddenly, the two precipitated them-
selves on his feet, and each laying hold of a leg, by
a back rush carried him off the bed, and he fell on
to the floor with a bump that shook the whole
habitation and that adjoining it.

The storm now waxed more furious. To his deep
bellows responded the shrill invectives of his wife
and daughter. Joan caught her own name repeatedly
employed, together with "shame," so that she dis-
covered that she was being employed as a projectile
to humble the common enemy. The resistance ot
Mr. Myatt became for a while weaker, as in being
drawn off the bed he had apparently dragged blanket
and coverlet along with him, and had involved him-

256 THE FROBISHERS

self in these wraps, which, getting at one moment
about his head, muffled his voice, and at another
about his feet, impeded action, and continuously
engaged his hands in attempts to extricate him-
self.

Thus the contest proceeded, the fortunes alternat-
ing, till about two in the morning, when Mr. Myatt
gained a complete triumph, in that he succeeded in
expelling the women from his room, shutting them
out, and fastening the door upon them, by dragging
a chest of drawers against it. After that he flung
himself with a crash upon the bed, and blew a
flourish of victorious snorts.

During the progress of the conflict, Joan had
repeatedly looked at the sick boy, in fear lest the
riot should disturb his sleep, but he slumbered on in
unconsciousness of the turmoil, to the like of which
he was habituated.

In the morning, when Joan rose, Sibyll was still in
bed. The day was Sunday. Had it been a common
week-day, she would not have gone to work, for the
necessity for so doing was at an end.

When Joan returned from church, she found that
Sibyll had just risen — she was in high spirits at her
approaching liberation, and much disposed to en-
large on the annoyance caused during the night by
the disturbance in the adjoining house, for which she
seemed, in a degree, to hold Joan responsible, because
the Myatts were her friends.

NO GARDEN 257

The boy Tom was better. The surgeon came and
pronounced favourably.

Presently Polly looked in, and beckoned to Joan
that she wished to speak with her in private. Joan
at once went into the street with her.

" It's about father," explained the girl. " He's as
meek and lowly as you could desire, and has a bump
as big as a goose's egg on his head. It's a real
pleasure to 'ave 'im break out now and again, he is
so placable and sweet after it, and he's promised
mother a new bonnet and me a parasol lined with
rose colour. Think of that ! Father wants terrible
bad to speak with you. He's a bit shy coming
round to No. 16, and I don't think he could
get his hat to sit on his head with that potato
of a lump on it — and all blue, moreover. If you
wouldn't mind stepping in?"

" Not in the least," said Joan, and she followed
Polly into the Myatt residence.

Mr, Myatt sat by the fire in the front kitchen,
that was also a parlour. His wife was eng^^d in
the rear, and thither to assist in the preparation of
the Sunday dinner Polly also went. It was under-
stood that. the father desired to eat his humble pie,
and objected to doing so in the presence of his wife
and daughter.

"How do you do?" was his salutation. "A fine
morning for the season of the year" — there was
falling rain mingled with sleet — "very glad to have
'7

258 THE FROBISHERS

a little talk with you. I had a small difference with
my wife last night, and I daresay we both raised
our voices, and continued the argiment till late —
which I'm sorry for, as it may have disturbed your
rest. But it shan't 'appen again. You see, I was
at the Blue Boar last evening, and we was engaged
in a political discussion, and that 'eated our blood,
and when I came home I wanted to continue it
with the missus."

" ril bring you down the pillow, and show you
what he have done to that with his boots," said Mrs.
Myatt, opening the kitchen door and thrusting in
her head. She was, however, at once withdrawn
by Polly's hand laid on her shoulder. Then the
door was again shut.

'' I was trying to demonstrate the political situa-
tion by drawing a diagram on the pillow cover,"
explained Mr. Myatt ; '' but, bless you I some women
have no heads for politics, and social economy is
Chinese to *em. But it shan't 'appen again. Know-
ing as I now does the limited range of her interlects,
I won't try to argy with my wife any more."

"Now look here!" Mrs. Myatt's head again
appeared. "Wot's all that about my range? It's
a good range, and your dinner '11 be cooked on it.
You won't put in another under eight pound, and
it's the landlord as ort to do it — not you." Again
Mrs. Myatt's head was withdrawn compulsorily.

"We were thrashing out the great question of

NO GARDEN 259

capital and labour/' said Mr. Myatt. '' Let us take
the case of competition among workers — lowering
the wages."

"Oh, if you please, Mr. Myatt, I am quite in-
competent to understand theories — I like to devote
my attention to practice," said Joan.

"Ah!" said Mr. Myatt, "women, I daresay,
never can be got to interest themselves in the great
questions of the day. I can't say myself that I was
much taken up with political and social economy till
I came to live in Fennings' Row. Formerly I was up
over the hill and had a nice little bit of a garden, and
I was tremenjious took up with that. Now it's a lovely
and an entertaining pursuit of a night to go out a-
slugging with a pail of soapy water. Lord ! I've had
the pleasure of gathering as many as a hundred and
twenty of an evening, and some of *em woppers. And
then to put cabbage leaves and a bit of turnip, and
see how they come under and over them. Bless you !
it lifted up the heart of a man and made him 'appy.
Couldn't fail to do so. What with sowing seed, and
watering, and weeding, and, above all, slugging, at
that time I'd no thought for political economy and
the Blue Boar. But that was too far from my work,
and I 'ad to give it up and come down 'ere. And
'ere the slugs have it all their own way, except as,
bless your soul ! I never saw any green thing grown
as they could eat, so what they come for here I can't
guess. If one can't go after slugs, one must be down

26o

THE FROBISHERS

on capitalists — and I'm arter them now. Well, I tell
you, I respects you greatly, and as to my Polly —
Lord! if a dozen policemen were pursuing you to
captivate you, she'd never allow one near you —
though she's got but one hand good for much. And
missus, with her temper and tongue " —

" Now, Peter ! "

Mrs. Myatt's head and shoulders reappeared, and
were as rapidly withdrawn.

" Well, give me your hand. Say you'll overlook it
this once if I wor on the political rampage last night.
I respects you tremenjious."

CHAPTER XXVIII

POTTERS' ROT

AS Joan left the pottery at noon on Monday, it
was with the intention of not returning to
her work in the afternoon, that she might see Mrs.
Beaudessart, and say farewell to her sister.

She hardly expected the lady to arrive early, and
in the morning there was no need for her to remain
away from the bank, for Sibyll was able herself to do
her packing, and the sick boy would be attended to
by two willing helps, Polly and Cissie.

Moreover, she was about to lose her sister's earnings,

which, though inconsiderable, were of some assistance

towards the housekeeping, and Joan foresaw that

she would require every penny she was able to scrape

together to maintain her little establishment. It

was true that there was a small reserve fund that

resulted from the sale of the furniture, etc., at

Pendabury, but there had been nothing recovered

from the bank, after the expenses of her father's

funeral had been discharged ; and what had been

overdrawn for the sake of his rash speculations, she

2ei

262 THE FROBISHERS

had been obliged to refund from the money obtained
by the sale.

She was resolved to set aside for her sister the
major portion of the sum at her disposal. It
would not be reasonable to expect that the
Beaudessarts, though taking her into their house,
should find her in clothing and pocket-money. It
was probable that they would do this, but she had
no right to reckon on it.

For herself she was confident She knew her own
powers and skill. She was rapidly mastering the
difficulties of the art of painting on porcelain, and
all she would shortly require would be an opening
for doing work that would be remunerative on a
higher scale than the mere mechanical drudgery to
which she was at present tied down. She could
not hope for promotion from Mr. Mangin, but if
she was not advanced at Fennings' bank, in course
of time, she would endeavour to obtain work in
another.

She had no thought of appealing to the pro-
prietor, although he had promised to keep his eye
on her, and the look he had given her as she left
the sitting-room of Lavender Lodge had been
encouraging.

For the sake of her sister, to protect her, she would
have done this ; but for herself, she preferred to be
independent. Mr. Fenning was, as she could judge
from bis countenance, a plain, straightforward, and

POTTERS' ROT 263

right-feeling man, a man to be depended upon, who,
when he said a thing, said it with the intention of
following up his words by action ; but it would be a
serious step to appeal to the head of the firm against
the manager, and this she certainly would not do
about such a matter as her own advancement.

As Joan left the potbank, she saw a pale, worn
woman of middle age, who followed her. At first
she made no account of this. The woman was but
one of the hands of Fennings' or some other bank,
leaving work and returning home for her midday
meal, or going to one of the eating-houses, where, for
a reasonable sum, it was possible to obtain a good
dinner, should the distance of residence from the
bank make a return home inconvenient

But when she arrived at No. 16, she saw the same
woman hanging behind, with a look as though she
would like to speak to her.

Joan was, however, hurried by observing a cab
standing before her door, with Sibyll's box on the
roof, and this distracted her attention from her
follower.

Mrs. Beaudessart had arrived at an earlier hour
than had been anticipated by Joan, and Joan
hastened to enter No. 16, and meet the lady, and
clasp her hands and express thanks for her goodness
to Sibyll.

"Not at all," said Mrs. Beaudessart. "It is you
who are conferring a favour on me, and that one by

Ill *~ mi*mt\

264 THE FROBISHERS

no means inconsiderable. Do not be anxious about
your sister. I will take the utmost care of her, and
see to her interests, and concern myself with her
future."

Sibyll, who was in the room, looked roguishly out
of the corners of her eyes at Joan, and pursed her
lips, and put just the point of her tongue to her
cheek — telling her as plainly as if she had spoken^
that she, Sibyll herself, purposed concerning herself
about her own future.

Then the girl ran upstairs to cast her eye about
the bedroom and assure herself that nothing had
been left behind.

"I know you are good," said Joan to Mrs.
Beaudessart ; " I have been too proud and self-
reliant hitherto. I have broken down with regard
to my sister. She is not suited for a life that agrees
with me. I had found this out, and was lost in per-
plexity what to do when your kind offer reached me."

The white-haired lady kissed Joan affectionately.
"You see," she said, "Julie is away, so I am very
solitary. I could not retain her with me. She is
boiling over with energy, and would eat her heart
out if not given a wide sphere for work. Sibyll,
accordingly, is just the one person I want as a
bright and delightful companion and a comfort to me.
And now — we have not much time to spare, as I
want to be at Pendabury early. Run after your
sister — she is in her room — and say good-bye."

POTTERS' ROT 265

Joan ascended, and found Sibyll before the
glass.

" Oh, Joan ! " said the girl, " Mr. Beaudessart
perhaps ought to have come here and helped his
mother to get me ofT. However, it is just as well —
I should not have relished his seeing me in such
quarters as Fennings' Row, and with such associates
as Cissie and Polly, as also with a dirty little
vagabond coughing under the same roof. Oh, Joan !
when will you leave this odious place? Mind you,
when I am mistress of Pendabury," — she dropped her
voice, — " as I mean to be, I will not have it said of
me that my sister is a common factory girl. I shall
be restive at Pendabury thinking of you here in this
grubby hole."

"Julie is a common nurse."

"That is a different matter. Ladies by birth go
out as hospital nurses. It is quite fashionable. But
I never heard of a lady going to work in a pot-
bank."

" I wish fervently I were not the only one."

" What would be the good of them coming among
a lot of common women ? "

" I would have them bring to the common women,
as you call them, what they want : some of the light
from above, the culture, self-restraint, and, above all,
the sympathy that they so greatly need."

" We won't talk of that now. I am off", out of the
brick-kilns of Egypt and away from its task-

266 THE FROBISHERS

masters, and can do no other than sing my ' In exitu
Israel.' "

Joan saw her sister off. Several of the girls were in
the street ; they had heard that the younger of the
Frobishers was leaving, and a cab standing at a
door in that thoroughfare was, in itself, a novelty
sufficient to attract attention.

Joan waved her kerchief to Sibyll till the cab
rounded the comer of Fennings' bank and was lost
to sight. Then she turned, to find the wan woman
hanging about her door.

Still occupied with the loss of her sister, Joan
hardly accorded the poor creature any attention. The
deprivation of her sister's company would leave her
much alone ; she would have no one with her now
who was part of her past, and with whom she could
look back into the sunshine of old Pendabury life.
Although she knew it was the best thing that could
happen to Sibyll, yet she keenly felt the pang of part-
ing with her.

She put a kerchief to her eyes for a minute on
entering the house, and sat wrapped in her meditations,
till, all at once, she roused herself with the question —

" What can that woman want with me ? "

At once she went forth to see if the poor creature
were still there, or had departed.

She saw her, and the woman advanced the moment
that Joan accorded her a look of encouragement.

POTTERS' ROT

267

"Is there anything that you require?" asked the
girl^ in a kindly tone.

" May I have one little word with you ? " entreated
the woman ; and Joan noticed that she laboured in
her breathing.

" Come within, and sit down."

The woman followed as Joan led the way, and took
a seat pointed out to her. She was obviously in
miserable health.

" It's a great piece of boldness," said she, " but I
could find no rest till I made up my mind to ask
it."

" Ask boldly ; I can but refuse," answered Joan, in
her pleasant, musical tones. "Be sure, however, of
this, that I shall refuse you nothing which by any
possibility I can grant, and then only with a sore
heart. I see that you are sufTering."

" I have the potters' rot," said the woman, putting
her hand to her bosom. " It is here — the dust I
cannot any longer work in the bank. I cough — and
when I cough it unsteadies my hand at the smoothing ;
so they have sacked me."

" Have you been long ill ? "

"It has come on by degrees. I knew it would
arrive at this. It can't be helped. The ware must
be smoothed, and someone must do it — and then the
dust gets into the lungs, and, little by little, lines and
chokes the air passages. It's like the boilers ; they
get coated and crusted up in time, but a chap can get

268 THE FROBISHERS

inside a boiler and chip out what is set there. It's
like the chimbleys that get stuffed up with soot, but
they can set a sweep with a brush to clear them out.
No doctor can get with a chisel and hammer into my
lungs and chip out the clay as is formed there, and no
brush will sweep out the dust as is lodged there. So
the pipes get thickened and stuffed up till no more
air can pass through them, and that is potters' rot.
It is a bit of asthma, and a bit of bronchitis, and a
bit of consumption mixed tt^ether in about equal
parts."

" But can nothing be done for you — nothing at
all?"

" They do say that fresh country air would be a
gain — but nothing will clear the flint and clay out
of my lungs, when lodged there. Do you mind if I
tell you about myself? "

" I shall be glad to hear."

" No, it won't make you glad — not if you are what
I take you to be, and what folks tell of you. My
husband was a placer, and he had to lift the saggers
and pile them. Some he carried up a ladder, and
they are heavy ; you'd wonder if you had the lifting
of 'em. Well, it requires a stiff man with stout arms,
and he was that. I never saw a stiffer man than he.
But one day he hurted his back, got a sprain or a
twist — he himself never knew exactly how it came
about and what it was. One doctor said one thing,
and one another, but none did him any good. Per-

POTTERS' ROT 269

haps he broke a cord, or got a kink in a muscle, I
can't say ; but from that time he steadily wasted
away. My son, and daughter, and I worked to
support him and pay the doctor's bills, but, Lord
bless you ! no doctors could do him any good ; yet it
was a satisfaction to have them come and examine
him and prescribe, and folks 'ud have talked if we
hadn't had plenty o' useless advice. So he went, and
then my gal, she went also."

" Went— died ? "

"No, I can't say that She was wayward, and
wouldn't stand speaking to ; and when I complained
of some of her goings on, and staying out so late of a
night, she left me in a temper, and I've not seen her
more. And the boy — he was a fine lad, and stuck
to his mother. But he got a chill. He was a clayer,
and was much in the damp, mixing the clays, and in
a draughty place, and it settled on his chest, and he
went off in a decline. They said he ought to have
been taken into the country — but. Lord! how was I
to do that ? Well, I buried him. Not a penny help
did I get from my daughter, but I don't know where
she went, and what became of her."

The poor creature looked at Joan and saw by the
working of her face that what she said had met with
a response.

" I was left alone," she said, pursuing her life-story.
" And it has been a solitary time with me for some
years. No 'usband, no daughter, no son, nothing

270 THE FROBISHERS

and no one to live for and love. But I held on till
my lungs got clayed up, and now I'm turned away.
I've got a mite of savings, though ; look here 1 "

She opened a bag and produced coin, a few pieces
of gold, one five-pound note, and some silver.

" There," said she. " I've put that by, but I can
earn no more. And now, what I have come here to
ask of you is this: Will you take me in? I've been
told as how your sister were leaving you. They've
been talking about it up and down the street all
Sunday. So I know you have a room to spare. I
am ready to pay for my lodgings and meat as long
as this here money lasts,"

" But what when it is expended ? "

" Then there's nothing else for me but just to go
into the canal."

CHAPT|ER XXIX

"HE WENT AWAY SORROWFUL, HAVING

GREAT POSSESSIONS

WILL take you," said Joan.

If the woman would have thanked she
could not, owing to an interruption. Hector
Beaudessart entered, and the woman, with tact,
withdrew to collect her goods and bring them to
No. 1 6.

"What," exclaimed Joan, "you here! And not
with your mother!"

" I cannot leave you without another attempt to
induce you to come to Pendabury. Joan, come
with me. I want you. I feel that I cannot do
without you. You do not know how I love you.
You fill all my heart and mind."

" You are my dear cousin, Hector," answered Joan,
with a tremor of her lip and a quiver in her voice.
" I feel your kindness, but — allow me to be frank
with you — I am sure that we could not be happy
together, so long as our views of what is before
us are so divergent. You look forward to a life

271

372 THE FROBISHERS

without care, full of harmless pleasures — hunting,
shooting, fishing, filling your greenhouses with
choice exotics, reading an occasional novel, and
so passing your existence — perhaps half a century
— without blemish. I had no other idea for my
future till my father died, and then I was brought
face to face with some stem actualities, of which
I may have heard, but to which I gave no heed.
Look at Pendabury, Hector, with all its loveliness
and its luxury, enjoyed by not half a dozen persons ;
then turn your eyes on this pottery district, with
its teeming thousands pent up in sordid streets and
narrow habitations under a dingy sky, and with
nothing to look on to make life lovely. Do you
think this is just?"

" My dear cousin, you have become a socialist ? "
"No, I have not. Socialism is bred of a realisa-
tion of the agonies of life resultant from modern
civilisation, which converts men and women not
into machines, but into parts, members, of a
machine which takes the young of both sexes, kills
all initiative out of them, and mechanises them till
it has used them up, body, mind, and soul, and then
casts them aside as so much refuse. The socialist
sees all this, it grieves him to the heart, and he
proposes desperate remedies, crude and impractic-
able. He has seen no more than one side of every
question, and he would undo all that centuries have
done to build up the great fabric of European

"HE WENT AWAY SORROWFUL" 273

greatness. The socialist's heart aches, and he cries
out at the suffering which everywhere surrounds
him ; but his suggested remedies would make
existence insufferable, and, if carried out, could
not last a generation. I believe in no isms. Every
ism is a half truth. May I tell you my thoughts?
My brain has been working while my heart has
been quivering since I came here, and I am full of
ideas — whether practicable or not I cannot say."

"Speak your mind and open your heart, Joan.
In me you will find a ready listener."

" Well, Hector, there are thousands upon thousands

in the manufacturing portions of England that are

being used as blind tools for the production of

certain indispensable articles — indispensable to our

modern civilisation, and which the world will never

do without. But the manufacture is stunting to

the faculties of mind and soul, where not injurious

to the body. It is destructive of all true enjoyment

of life, and I take it God created every creature to

be happy. Many of the workers are aware of this,

and resent it; others jog on, crushed by a blind

fatalism that forbids hope of escape. Possibly,

some day, the masses may burst forth in revolt

against the system, as the Sicilian slaves rose in the

Servile war of Italy. They may be put down, as

were the serfs of old, decimated and enchained

afresh. They may compass their emancipation,

and attempt to realise their wild dreams and carry
18

274 THE FROBISHERS

out their undigested plans, and in so doing will
wreck modern civilisation and destroy culture past
recovery, and leave Europe open to invasion by
some nation that advances automatically stage by
stage and not by wholesale revolution. It appears
to me that we have in England, in our body of
operatives, men and women, a magnificent material,
incomparably superior to any that exists elsewhere
on the face of the earth. It possesses a healthy
heart, full of honesty, generosity of feeling, heroic
perseverance, and a touching tenderness of soul.
But the class has its defects, which sadly mar its
greatness. It lacks self-restraint Its members act
upon impulse, sometimes blind, sometimes intelli-
gent. The father drinks himself drunk because he
cannot restrain himself when in company with his
mates ; the wife scolds on the smallest provocation,
and never knows when to bridle her nagging tongue,
because her temper is under no control. The
children cast aside their obligations to their parents
when these latter attempt to cross their wills. The
father and mother hold their offspring in check, not
by example but by the stick, and when the children
grow beyond the dread of a beating they no longer
respect their parents. I have heard a mother say
of her daughter, * If she goes wrong it won't be for
want of my wopping her ! ' — that is about typical of
the way in which a multitude of the working class
regard education. Where there is not undue

"HE WENT AWAY SORROWFUL" 275

severity there is over-indulgence, and the young
grow up under either system self-willed and un-
disciplined. Of course there are exceptions, but
exceptions prove the rule." Joan paused a moment,
then she went on : " Now we have in our upper
classes, in our country parsonages and manor houses,
in town mansion and suburban villa, among our
gentry generally, the very finest material in the
world for infusing into the working classes that
very element which it lacks. Every gentleman's
house, great or small, is a reservoir of healthy,
health-giving self-control. Look at our young men
and girls of the upper classes — where can you find
their equals? Pure-minded, high-principled, full of
courage and sense of honour and fair play. The
whole fabric of culture among the classes is based
on self-discipline. From earliest childhood boy and
girl have it impressed on them that to be gentle-
men and ladies they must keep themselves under
restraint. It begins before they learn ABC.
Courtesy is impressed on the very babe when taught
to say * Ta ! ' on receiving a bit of cake. The whole
of our public school excellence depends on the
inculcation of self-government Among the classes,
this teaching of self-control may not always be due
to high principle ; it may be merely owing to the
fact that it is demanded by cultured society, and
that such as do not possess it are kicked out. To
what do our young men devote themselves? The

276 THE FROBISHERS

youth born with a gold spoon in his mouth idles
life away usually in harmless amusements, in some
cases he sinks into dissipation. Of those without
gold or silver spoons, most go to the Colonies, to
ranches, or into the army or navy, and do good
work wherever they ga It is they who have made
the name of an Englishman proverbial with truth,
justice, and humanity. Why does not some of this
wholesome blood come down here — come and flow
in these dark places of our native land ? "

" What, Joan I have our gentlemen turn mechanics,
and work in mine and factory?"

"Yes, Hector, why not? It will repay them a
thousand times any little shock to old habits, any
abandonment of old comforts. They will learn to
know their brothers who toil that others may enjoy.
The true huntsman cares for his hound and horse,
and sees that they are well groomed, well housed,
and well fed. The true gentleman should see that
his fellow-men, who make his boots and weave the
cloth of his coat, who grind his knives, turn his
gun, make his cups and plates, his wineglasses and
decanters, are treated as human beings and cared
for as living souls."

" But, Joan, what can we do? How can we alter
the whole condition of manufacturing life ? "

"You can do a great deal by going among the
people, living with them, working side by side with
them. You would get to know, esteem, ay, and

"HE WENT AWAY SORROWFUL" 277

reverence them, the workers ; and the workers would
derive from you some of that high culture, that self-
discipline, which has become, by a process that has
gone on for centuries, the groundwork and the
essence of high-class life."

" You think, Joan, that we shall see an upheaval
of the working classes, and that the only way to
stave this off is for us to fuse ourselves with
them ? "

Joan flushed crimson.

" Hector ! " she said. " I would not for the world
have you or any gentleman go down among the
artisans and work, merely to save your class. All
work that is worth account, all work that will lead
to results that will be productive and last, must
spring from a better motive than that — the love of
God and of our fellow-men — our brothers and sisters,
Hector, never forget that — our poor, toiling, over-
worked, ill-used brothers and sisters. Dear Sibyll
said to me, ' I cannot bear to be at Pendabury and
think of you here.' That is what I would have
every man bom with a gold or silver spoon in his
mouth say, ' I cannot bear to live in ease, idleness,
and luxury, and to have my poor brothers and
sisters lapping up broth, like a dog.'"

"My dear cousin — you strain a case. I have
learned, for I have been at some trouble to make
inquiries, that the men who have the hardest work
get the best pay. And as to lapping up their broth

378 THE FROBISHERS

— why, I have been assured that some of the colliers
and artisans, when flush of money, will indulge in
champagne, eat their oysters when at three shillings
a dozen, and buy strawberries at a penny apiece."

"That may be so. But why? Because they
know not how else to get rid of their money. They
are brutalised. No higher way of enjoyment has
been shown them than that of their animal appetites.
Pay them eight, ten, fifteen shillings a day ; they
will squander it on luxuries, on the best of tipples,
and the best tobaccos, and the daintiest of meat, and
what they cannot spend, this they will throw away
in bets. They have not been shown that man does
not live only on the meat that perishes. That is
precisely why I want some of you young men, some
with fine prospects and some without, but with the
reserve fund of your early education, you young men
bred in an atmosphere of fine culture, to come among
these people and show them the higher way. You
are ready enough to endure privation and roughness
for a bit of shooting in Central Africa or in the
Rocky Mountains, why not for some higher purpose
than the killing of wild beasts? Mind you, such
an act of self-sacrifice will bring to you enormous
compensations. If you are what I hold you to be.
You will leam to know human nature, you will
meet with reward, and, I doubt not, win love —
only, for God's sake, do not undertake it merely
to save your class."

"HE WENT AWAY SORROWFUL" 279

"But, Joan, there are the clergy and doctors,
who move among them, and there are Sisters of
Mercy and district visitors as well. Surely they
fulfil your requirements."

" No, they do not, for they are not of the people.
Their professions, their very dress, differentiate
them. If you want to raise the masses, and at
the same time to steep yourself in a knowledge
of human nature, and of the needs and desires
of Lazarus, you must strip off your purple and
lie down at his side. Hector I Do you recall some
careless words that fell from you, the very first
time we met, and which formed almost your first
sentence? You said to me, 'Wherever an English
gentleman sees need, perplexity, distress, thither
he flies with an eager heart to assist' The great
Master of all, who worked the transformation of
society, He did not become a high priest or a ruler
of the Sanhedrim when He sought man's regenera-
tion ; but He made Himself of no reputation, and
took on Him the form of a servant And now, you
must excuse me. I have little Tom Treddlehoyle
to look after, and to relieve Cissie. I must go,
but I trust I have made clear to you why I can-
not accept your offer. We could not be happy
together, for we look at life with different eyes."

She put out her hand to him, and he took it,
but turned his head away. Then she departed.
Against the wall hung a picture. It was an

28o

THE FROBISHERS

engraving from the painting by Watts of tlie young
man who went away sorrowful, for he had g^rcat
possessions. A wonderful picture, telling so deep
a story so simply.

Hector, left alone, walked across the room and
stationed himself before this picture. He stood
there immovable for full ten minutes, and his
breath came in long inhalations.

He heard Joan speaking in a cheery voice to the
sick lad upstairs. He heard Cisste laughing as
she descended the steps.

Then he heaved a sigh, and went away sorrowful.

CHAPTER XXX

BUT RETURNED

THREE days later Hector Beaudessart was
again at No. i6 Fennings* Row. He went
there after work hours had concluded, in the ex-
pectation of finding Joan at home. She was,
however, out, but Polly Myatt was in the house,
so also was Cissie.

Tom Treddlehoyle was mending. He was suffi-
ciently improved to be transferred for a few hours
downstairs, and now, muffled in blankets, he reclined
in an easy-chair by the fire.

His rags had been burnt, and Joan had actually
gone into the town to buy a new suit for him.
She was able, pretty accurately, to judge his size,
and allow somewhat for growth. Probably she
would be suffered by the shopman to take home with
her two or three sets of garments on approval.

The little fellow was ivory white and clean. His
hair had been combed and brushed. Much of his
coarseness had gone with the grime, and the wan
face was not deficient in delicacy of feature, and

281

fl — - «- >

282 THE FROBISHERS

showed capacity for refinement under proper train-
ing. The roguish eyes had not lost their twinkle
and the flexible lips their curl for a laugh.

The lamp was alight when Hector entered, and
the fire was burning with a ruddy glow, suffusing
the little room with light, colour, and warmth.

Polly looked the young man over as he entered,
with an unfriendly expression. She stood in front
of him with arms akimbo, and said —
" You want our Joan, I suppose?"
" Yes, frankly, I do."

"Then you ain't a-going to get her," said Polly.
" You've been here three or four times, and you've
been seen flutterin' about in the neighbourhood,
and we don't approve of hangers-on. We dorft
intend to let her go. We want to keep her here,
and she belongs by rights to us."

"She's my Joan," threw in the boy from his
blankets. "You've come too late, young cove. I
took 'er on from the fust."

"Come here, Cissie," said Polly, throwing open
the door into the back kitchen, "and you, Mrs.
Mardentle, as well. You come and cast your eye
over this here young man. He's come after our
Joan. I'm sneeped wi' him. He may want her,
but he shan't have her."

"We can't do wi'out her," said Cissie.
"You have a mind to carry her off," said the
woman with potters' rot, whose name was Mar-

BUT RETURNED 283

dentle. " If you do manage it, then there'll be no
place left for me but the canal."

Then in came Caroline Grosser.

" Carrie," said Polly Myatt, " here's a fine courtier
come to take away our Joan. There is a lady 'as
been and carried off Sibyll in a cab. She's not
such a terrible loss; we shan't cry our eyes out
for the want of her. But it's another matter alto-
gether with our Joan."

"I'll blacken his peepers," said Carrie, "if he
do but name it."

"There be a lot of our girls coming in by and
by," said Polly, "and, bless my bones! if you
don't partic'lar feel flush of cash and value the suit
you're in — not to say your own self behind it — you
won't let 'em get an inkling as to what is in your
mind. Now," pursued Polly, "that coat of youm.
I don't suppose it cost you a penny under eighteen
shillings, and as to them trousers, I've seen the
like of they, hung up outside Moses Solomon's
clothing shop, with a ticket on 'em, 'Our Prime
Pants — Fourteen and Eleven.' That makes thirty-
two and eleven. If you don't want to be resulted,
you'll keep out of the way of our girls, when
they know you're wanting to walk off with our
Joan." Polly strode up and down the room, toss-
ing her red head. "What 'ud No. 16 be without
her? What 'ud Fennings' Row, not to name the
other side of the street? What 'ud become of

284 THE FROBISHERS

father? He'd be politicianing again at the Blue
Boar, and mother 'd be lively wi' her tongue. It's
no good your thinking of it, young chap! We
'ave all to be consulted in the disposing of her,
for she's Our Joan."

"Well," said Hector, laughing, "I am not brave
enough to encounter a regiment of StafTordshire
Amazons — I shall decamp."

Hector did leave the house, but walked to the head
of the street and waited there for Joan. He had no
intention of being driven off the field without an
effort to obtain a foothold.

He had not long to tarry before he saw her
coming along with springing tread from the
town. The gas-lamp threw its light full on her as
she approached, and he saw that she carried a
bundle.

" Cousin Joan ! " said he, stepping forward, " I
have come back."

She was a little startled, as she had not noticed
him in the shadow immediately under the lamp.
But she soon rallied, and answered, "You are per-
tinacious, Cousin Hector. But it is quite in vain."

"Joan dearest, hearken to what I have to say.
As you will not come to me, I am going to
you."

" What do you mean ? "

" I intend following your advice and entering the
works."

BUT RETURNED 285

" You are not in earnest ? "

" I am. You shall hear where I have been,
and what I have done. I took a trap at the Griffin
and drove out to the Fennings' place. I have
seen the old gentleman. I like him. He is straight-
forward and honest. I told him plainly what I
was, what I wanted, and why I desired it."

" Well ? "

" He was amused at first — thought I was trifling ;
but I spoke out decidedly. And, Joan — I used
your name, and he smiled, and said he had not
forgotten you. He let me understand that you
had been serviceable to him in giving him a
glimpse into the character of a certain manager
he had."

*' Yes, Mr. Mangin."

" Who might possibly have become his son-in-law,
but who is now not only very certainly not to be
taken into the family, but who will be turned out
of his management"

"From what I know — that is, have heard — it is
as well that it should be so."

"Mr. Fenning has made inquiries, and is
satisfied that this man Mangin is not a suitable
person to be employed by him. He first enter-
tained a suspicion to this eflect from something
he heard through you."

"Well, never mind Mr. Mangin. How about
yourself?"

286 THE FROBISHERS

" Joan, I have been considering a good deal what
you said. I daresay that when I dished up your
opinions before Mr. Penning, 1 made a hash of them.
However, he did not object. He is willing to let
me make a trial. I do not think he has much
faith in me — but he knows about you, Joan. If
his inquiries have served to shake his confidence
in Mangin, they have caused him to form a very
high opinion of you — and I really believe he would
do anything you recommended or asked."

" You are going into our bank ? "

"Yes, Joan."

" But — it cannot be. It must not be, Hector.
You have duties that hold you to Pendabury."

" They shall not be neglected."

" Indeed, my lengthy diatribe the other day was
not levelled against you. Indeed no!"

"Joan, I want to know both what the artisan
is and what are his merits and what his demerits.
His merits will serve to deepen and strengthen
my character, at the same time that my knowledge
of men grows and my sympathies expand. My
culture may possibly help in the rectification of
some of his twists and the making up of some of
his deficiencies. Anyhow, I feel that I must know
him, and get him to know me. The masses, I dare-
say, think that we of the classes are a set of
pampered, enervated, dissolute, and heartless fools.
I daresay it will do the man of the masses some

BUT RETURNED 287

good to look me eye to eye, and see that one has
a heart, courage, and does not live only for the
pleasures that perish. He who has seen you,
knows what a lady is and can be wherever placed ;
and let him know that an English gentleman can
be a gentleman everywhere and among all kinds
of men. I do not doubt that, when we come to
know each other intimately, we shall acquire a
respect and a liking for each other. We shall
melt into one another imperceptibly, sloughing
off what is feeble and ephemeral and absurd, and
intensifying every element that is good. See,
Joan ! I talk almost like you."

" Hector, in your case this will not do."
" Why not ? "

" You have your duties at Pendabury."
" You have said that already."
" My dear father," said Joan — " I regret to say
it, but you have probably by this time discovered
the fact — neglected repairs in the farms and
cottages. At the time I did not understand his
indifference. It was occasioned by this — that he
had a life-interest only in the estate ; and as the
place was to pass away from his children after his
death, he really did not care to put himself to the
expense of making the farmhouses sound and the
cottages habitable. He cut down timber, but did
no planting. A good deal of the land cries out
to be drained, and is overgrown with rushes.

288 THE FROBISHERS

Now you come into a wide stretch of property
covered with ruins. The farmhouses and appurte-
nances must be rebuilt or repaired, or the farmer
will quit. The labourers must be given habitations
comfortable and sufficiently roomy to enable them
to rear families in decency. This, then, must claim
your attention. The land must be looked to, and
drainage must be taken in hand on a systematic
and extensive scale. Therefore I say, your place
is at Pendabury."

"That need not engage all my time. Come and
help me."

" What ! to build farmhouses and cottages, drain
and plant and hedge? No."

"Joan, I am well aware of the state of the
property. It will consume nearly all the income
for ten years to do justice to the place. I have
gone over it carefully with Shand. I am determined
to reserve to myself for the maintenance of Penda-
bury House only one-third of the rental, and two-
thirds shall go in repairs and reconstructions, in
drainage and planting and enclosing, till the entire
property is in thorough order. I have settled
everything with Shand and the agent. Now this will
not take up all my time. I have a scheme in my
head. On all sides I am informed that you are
common property. Fennings' bank and Fennings'
Row — pretty nearly everyone I come across, all
call you Our Joan. You are democrats here, all

BUT RETURNED 289

of you, and I cannot act other than constitu-
tionally, and in accordance with the popular will.
Consequently, I shall have to lay my motion in
order before your friends. Here we are at
No. 16."

So he and Joan entered the corner house.
Nearly all the girls were there.

It had got wind that a gentleman — or, as they
called him, a chap — had been there with purpose
to carry off Joan, and all the girls who had the
entree flocked to it In addition, Mr. Myatt had
been called in, whose capacity for butting at a
door might render his assistance valuable, if it
were necessary to eject Hector Beaudessart by
violence. Mr. Skrimager had also been summoned,
whilst passing down the street. There were present
Caroline Grosser, Essie Gott, Lena Battersby,
whose apprentice Joan was, and who had been
summoned in the emergency, Bessie Callear,
Margaret Pointon, and the rest.

As Joan entered along with Hector, she saw
that all were in a condition of the liveliest excite-
ment, and she caught Polly saying aside, indicating
Hector —

" That's him."

" I like his cheek ! " muttered Bessie.

" P'r'aps you'd like to kiss it," hinted Tom, nudging
the girl.

" Girls," said Hector, " I find that Joan Frobisher
19

2gjO THE FROBISHERS

is an obstinate girl. This is no new discovery, I
have known it for some time; but I find that her
will is just about as hard as nails, and nothing
I can say will bend it. I want you to g^ve consent
to a proposal I have to make, and if it meets with
your approbation, I will ask you to come to my
assistance and make her flexible. So I solicit your
favour."

"And mine too, I suppose?" threw in Tom.

"Certainly yours. You have a claim on her,"
said Hector.

"And I should like a word as well," observed
Mr. Myatt. "For when I gets upon my political
economy vein, Fm inclined to be rampageous, and
having her next door keeps me off it."

"Assuredly!" said Hector.

"And I," pleaded Mrs. Mardentle, "for if she's
took away I shall go into the canal. There's no
other place for me."

" By all means," said Hector. " And now, ladies
and gentlemen all, I must tell you that it is my
fondest, most fervent desire, to convert your Joan
into my Joan."

Murmurs of disapproval, and threatening demon-
stration from Bessie Callear.

Polly Myatt nudged her father, to rouse him
to a sense of the duty that might be imposed
upon him, and he nodded his bald head know-
ingly.

BUT RETURNED 291

" But," added Hector, " she will not hear of it.
She says she loves you all too dearly to bear
to be torn away. She belongs too intimately to
you."

" She do."

" And she has refused me, not once only, but once
and again. She will not leave you."

" She's a thunderin' brick," said Caroline.

"I always said she was a good un'. I said
it the fust time as I clapped eye on her," said
Polly.

" I said it before you ever see'd her — when she ate
'arf my stick-jaw," said the boy.

"Now do not think," proceeded Hector, "that I
harbour any design of taking Joan wholly away from
you. I should be doing you and her a wrong if I did
it — but I cannot. She would not hear of such a
proceeding. As I said, I have a proposal to make
that can only be carried into effect with your
consent."

" Name it ! " said Mr. Skrimager.

" I have," continued Hector, " a comfortable house
in the country, and I want Joan to keep it for
me.

Mr. Myatt now began to polish his head and pre-
pare for action, nudged thereto by Polly.

"But there is nothing to be done there," Hector
went on, "and neither she nor I can be idle. So
what I say is: Will you let me have her away for

292 THE FROBISHERS

half the year, that is to say the summer months, and
for the other half, the winter months, she and I will
be here with you. I am going into the bank, and
shall work there and not be an idle loafer. What say
you to that ? "

The girls looked at one another, and Mr. Myatt
bowed his ear to hear what Polly had to say on the
matter, as well as to intimate his readiness to butt
at Hector and project him into the street if this
proposal did not commend itself to his daughter's
views. Polly spoke out —

** As chaps go," she said, " take him all in all, he
ain't so much amiss. I've seen wusser."

"And I suppose," observed Caroline, "she's
sure to marry some day. We all does, or hopes
to."

" It's a law of natur*," said Mr. Myatt ; " you can't
go agin' natur'."

" He speaks fair," said Bessie. " But how are we
to know he'll keep to his word ? If we could be sure
of that, I would say let her have him."

"And I," interjected Tom. "I will consent if I
may act as father, and gfive her away."

"And I," said Joan, "only on condition that
Hector binds himself, as I bind myself to you all,
dearest friends, that this arrangement shall be
conscientiously observed, not for one year, but for
five."

" My hand to it," said Hector.

BUT RETURNED

293

"When the five years are ended, the whole
arrangement shall be gone into together, and fresh
order taken if need be," said Joan.

"On that condition we gfive you our Joan," said
the girls.

" Ditto," added Tom.

■•ff\

hriJr-'riii

CHAPTER XXXI
"COME OVER AND HELP USl"

THE girls quickly departed. They were aware
that for this one evening they would have to
keep away. As Polly said, nudging Bessie Callear,
" Put yourself in her place. We must leave her with
her young man."
Then said Hector to little Tom —
" Mannikin t let me cany you upstairs."
He gathered the boy in his blankets in his arms.
" And here is your bundle," said Joan. " New
garments for you to dress yourself out in to-morrow
morning, and select the suit that is most becom-
ing."

" I may have a squint at 'em to-night ? " asked the
lad.
"Certainly, and dream of them all the night."
" Look 'ere," said the urchin, " print across my
back and weskit and down the breeches, 'Tom
Treddlehoyle, Esquire,' wi' markin' ink, or blowed if
the guv'ner won't put 'em up the spout and drink
what he gets by 'em,"

"COME OVER AND HELP US!" 295

When Tom had been consigned to his bed, and
Cissie had been instructed to administer to him a
bowl of hot bread and milk, then Joan and Hector
were alone in the little parlour.

They seated themselves at the table.

"Joan," said the young man, "what are your
intentions with regard to this urchin Tom, now
that he is on the mend, is clean, and about to be
re-clothed ? "

" I do not know what to do. His father has not
been near the place to inquire after or see him since
he has been ill. I dare not send him back to the
horrible den whence I plucked him. The doing so
would spoil all the good effected. He will need
care for some time and plenty of good food to
nourish him, neither of which would he get there.
Oh, the horrors of the place where his father lives 1
No child can grow up in it and become other than
a moral cripple. It is a comer heaped up with
social wreckage."

" I am able to assist you," said Hector. " I have
a caretaker with his wife at Rosewood. He is a
worthy man, who attends to the garden, and she is
a motherly body, who keeps the house ventilated
and dry. I will send the little imp to them ; there
he will enjoy pure air, receive good nourishment,
and be given healthy occupation. In time we shall
be able to judge where to put him and on what to
employ him permanently."

296 THE FROBISHERS

"Thank you. Hector. You have lifted a burden
from my mind. I was at a loss what to do with
the boy, how to open to the little waif some future.
Already, although you have not been here for long,
you have supplied the means of saving a little life
and soul from destruction."

"That is settled, then," said Hector. "Now let
us clear away ambiguities, and arrange the terms
of our convention. When are we to be married ? "

" Not till next Easter twelvemonth. I want you
to become thoroughly acquainted with this potter
people. I want you to become interested in them.
Then we shall be united in a common purpose of
life."

" Very well — and if, looking so far ahead, I may
ask it, where are we to be married ? "

" Of course, it can be nowhere but here."

" And do you mean, Joan, that till we are old and
grey-headed we are to spend every year half here and
half at Pendabury ? "

" No, Hector, I am not so inconsiderate and ex-
travagant as that, I bound you to five years only.
In that period you and I will have had time to
become intimate with the needs, prejudices, de-
ficiencies, as well as with the sterling good qualities
of the operative class, so as to be able to take such
practical steps as lie within our scope to remedy the
former, and I trust we shall be able to interest and
engage others in the same work. What is wanted

"COME OVER AND HELP US!" 297

is to set the ball rollingi not to kick it into the
goal."

"But assuredly, what with primary and technical
schools, the new generation will become cultivated
and more intelligent than the old."

"That may be. The schools will sharpen the
brain and give edge to the wit, but will never supply
that which underlies all gfreatness, and that is —
principle. That they make no attempt to inculcate,
nor again that which grows out of and becomes a
necessary adjunct to principle — self-control. What
would you think of whetting knives and putting them
in the hands of lunatics ? Let knives be made keen
by all means, but make sure that those to whom they
are given have sound heads. Our schools are
engaged in creating intellectual monsters, as did
Frankenstein — very clever, very cunning, entirely
selfish, and absolutely unscrupulous. To other
quarters the mass of our population must look to
acquire principle and the power of self-government.
Religion might be assumed to furnish this need, but
the popular religion is mere emotionalism, stimulated
by sensationalism, and is a feeling and not a rule of
life. I look to the upper classes, in whom self-rule
has become a habit, through centuries of training,
to bring this quality among the masses by their
example. Let members of the classes enter into
and be among the masses, and infuse into them
this element of greatness. You do not leaven a

L*"* "ir^- .

298 THE FROBISHERS

lump by putting the yeast on the surface, but by
working it into the body. That is why I do not
consider that a gp'eat work will be wrought by
parson and Sisters and all the ecclesiastical
organisations employed for a good purpose. But
I do think that a truly glorious result will be
attained by the social fusion that I advocate, for
by that means you bring the very highest acquisition
of Christian civilisation into the very heart of the
vast mass of our population, to permeate it in every
part But to come back to ourselves. I do not
desire you to be bound down for more than five
years to the bench of an artisan. By that time you
will have become so thoroughly acquainted with the
English working man, that you can leave your stool
to another and a younger, and — who can say ? — ^aim
at a seat in the House of Commons, where you can
enforce by word and vote what you have learned
by experience to be imperative. Is it not strange,
Hector, that our young people are put through a
course of mathematics, classics, natural science,
foreign languages, and then are sent out into the
world without any knowledge of mankind, which is
the supreme study of all? We encourage them to
take up the pursuit of botany, or chemistry, or
geology ; we bid them collect fossils, mosses, moths-
go down even to postage-stamps ; we are glad to find
them engaged in observing the habits of the earth-
worm, and studying the life evolution of the daddy-

"COME OVER AND HELP US!" 299

longlegs, but never think of ui^ng them to descend
among our people and probe the deep mysteries of
their existence. I would have every young fellow,
before he takes up a career or profession, as soldier,
priest, or politician, pass a twelvemonth at least in
a dockyard, a factory, or a mine, as an ordinary
working hand. Then he would be qualified for life
in a way incalculably better than if he can write
Greek verses and do quadratic equations. Do not
for a moment suppose that the scheme I suggest
will be all and only for the benefit of the masses. It
will be of the mightiest avail to the members of the
classes also, who have the hardihood to follow my
proposal."

" That is all very well in theory, Joan, but would
not this result in some deterioration — the acquisition
of bad habits and low tastes ? "

"There always will be certain men who, like
Falstaff, have a certain alacrity in sinking, men who
are morally limp, and cannot stand unless supported,
— but such will be of no use anywhere, and such are
precisely the men who will stand shivering on the
brink and never muster courage for the plunge. To
one who breaks down there will be twenty who will
be braced up."

" It seems to me to be very risky for girls of good
breeding and education to step into such association
as is inevitable in a factory or a potbank."

"Of course there is risk. All could not stand it.

300 THE FROBISHERS

That has been the case with Sibyll. But some can,
and will gain immeasurably by so doing, and will
give as well as gain. But I dispute the suggestion
made, that they will be treated with anything but
respect. An Englishman, to whatever class he
belongs, respects a woman, if she respects herself.
I have not met with any insolence, only with courtesy
and kindliness. No girl need fear association with the
English artisan, if she hold herself erect However,
it is rather to you young men that I look with great
hopes. The universities have their missions among
costermongers and dockers — to which they send down
their enthusiastic best blood — but these are religfious
and ecclesiastical. I want social missionaries, such
as may become leaders with an immense army behind
them. I have no faith whatever in your Radical and
Socialistic demagogues, but I have immense confidence
in the cream and flower of our young men of culture,
if they will buckle to their work, and get into touch
with the people. It seems to me. Hector, that a new
and grinding tyranny has to be fought ; it is no
longer royal despotism, nor feudalism, but it is the
pressure of modem civilisation. That which the
public demands is cheap fabrics and cheap ware of
every kind ; and cheap fabrication means the oppres-
sion of the worker. I presume that one of the most
deadly of all pursuits is that of the rubber collector
in the swamps of South America. No man engaged
in that lives six years, and his life as a collector is

"COME OVER AND HELP US!" 301

one of solitude, famine, and torture from mosquitoes.
Who drive them into those malarial marshes ? Who
use up lives at such a rate ? The general public, that
will have its india-rubber cycle tyres. At home, what
is perhaps the most dreadful and destructive to life
of all trades is the making of bleaching-powder ; yet
the wife and daughter of the man who sacrifices his
life in the manufacture would scorn to use calico that
had not been dressed with this destructive powder.
What disease is more horrible than that produced by
the manufacture of lucifer matches ? yet the mother
of the girl whose jaw is corroded will squander a box
of matches with total disregard. The public is the
Juggernaut of to-day, under whose wheels thousands
of lives are ground into the earth, or, if the lives are
spared, all beauty and joy of life are crushed out of
them. Now what the workers need are men who can
see both sides of every question, who can stand high
enough to command the entire horizon, and who can
use their cultivated energies and their skilled abilities
to defend the workers against the tyranny of modern
civilisation, and to force home on the mind of the
general public the necessity for considering the
artisan who ministers to its well-being. The public
is tender-hearted and is easily roused, but it is
nevertheless selfish and exacting, and it is easily
lulled back into indiflTerence. We want the men to
search and find out what are the hardships, and then
to seek the remedies, which will not be worse than

302 THE FROBISHERS

the ills they cure. Then we want them to insist on
reforms that are sound and justifiable, insist in season
and out of season, and insist that the artisan shall not
be brutalised by the trade he practises to satisfy the
hunger of the general public for the cheap and nasty/'

" You are on fire, Joan."

" You will be when you have been for a few months
in the same situation as myself, and surrounded by
the same society. I have come so to identify myself
with the people, so to love them, that I am ready
to sacrifice you unless you are fired with the same
enthusiasm as myself."

" Joan, I have no thought but of endeavouring, in
my poor way and to the best with my poor abilities,
to do what I can in the cause."

" Grod bless you for saying that ! " exclaimed she,
her eyes filling as she stretched out her hand
across the table to him.

"And now, Joan," said he, taking her hand and
pressing his lips to it, " one thing more : I don't like
the looks of your girl Cissie."

" No — she is poisoned with the lead."

" Nor of that other, who, for all that she is bleached
and crippled, has a mind full of force."

" What— Polly, my pal ? "

" Yes, she does not look healthy."
She also has been poisoned."
And that pallid woman with the short breath and
hacking cough ? "

"COME OVER AND HELP US!" 303

" She has the potters' rot."

"It seems to me that they need fresh air, abundance
of milk, and complete change of surroundings."

" There is no doubt about that — and these are but
a few out of many."

"Then, Joan, why not send them to Rosewood
Cottage ? "

" Do you mean it ? "

" I do. It is entirely at your service as a sanitarium.
The only difficulty I can see is — who will look after
them and see that they are properly attended to,
according to their several needs?"

"Julie."

" Will she come ? "

" I am certain that she will. Oh, Hector, you
have touched only the fringe of all this misery, and
already you have opened the way to effecting incal-
culable good. Pass me my writing-book — I will
write at once to Julie. I have her promise."

Then she took pen and paper, and wrote —

" Come over and help us ! "

CHAPTER XXXII

TWO AIMS

"TV/TY DEAR JOAN, — You are intolerable.

IVx Who would ever have supposed that you
were so sly as to send me out of the way to
Pendabury — though, Heaven knows, I am delighted
to be anywhere, so long as I am not in the
Potteries — and to entice Hector Beaudessart away
from his own mansion and compel him to take up
his residence in the same horrible place that you
are in? You good people are awfully deep. Of
course you had your ends clearly in view, and
the whole scheme was well laid and adroitly
carried out. He has been here hardly at all since
I came to Pendabury, and when he is here he
can talk of nothing but pots and potters — the
making of one and the improvement of the other.
I must say you people who set up to be philan-
thropic, and all the rest of it, are as cunning as
foxes, and poor simple creatures, like myself, are
ho match for you.

"Well, as soon as I saw how this fine comedy
was going to end, I had to provide for myself.
I have no idea of playing second fiddle any more

804

TWO AIMS

305

under you. I don't care, although I have good
cause to be angry. With a little finessing I
brought Colonel Wood to his knees, and have
accepted him. He is old enough to be my father,
and is rather deaf and a bit of a sawney. But
I don't mind. He is comfortably off, has a nice
place, no bothering children by his first wife — I
shall bundle her portrait into the attics. I intend
to give dinner-parties and dances ; I shall hunt,
and have shooting, and lawn tennis, and hockey
parties, and enjoy myself to the nines.

" I look back on that — ^ excuse a vulgarism, as
old Shand would say, but really, a vulgar expletive
will alone describe the place — that beastly Black
Hole, as I do upon a hideous nightmare. So I
bargain, if you do come to Pendabury, and we
meet, not to breathe one word of shop.

"There, I have good cause to be angry with
you, but I am too disgusted at your bad taste in
sticking where you are to be angry at anything
you may do. So, fare thee well. — Your loving
sister,

" Sibylla."

"Polly," said Joan, looking up, "there is going
to be a marriage in our family."

" I have been long expecting it," said the girl.

" My sister."

" Oh !— she ! "

A twelvemonth had passed since the arrange-
ment had been reached described in the last

chapter.
20

r . *»■

3o6 THE FROBISHERS

Folly bad been sent into the country, and had
returned looking fresh and sound, only her hand
was not recovered. Electricity had, however,
done something towards the improvement of Its
condition,

Cissie also was back, an altered being, with
the pure red blood mantling her cheeks, still the
devoted hench-woman of Joan, to whom she clung
as a leech,

" My bones ! " exclaimed Polly, " you've no idea
how took up my father is with his bulbs and
window - gardening. He says it has only one
drawback — there ain't no slugs in the boxes to
entice out and kill. And the way in which you
keep him supplied with flowers — -as one goes off,
another to come on. He is so took up with his
plants he's forgot about his politics at the Blue
Hoar. Hut then it is the same all along the Row.
There ain't nowhere in the town such a show as
we make with flowers in our windows — and sent
from Pcndabury every fortnight ! Lord ! I don't
know what our folk would do now without their
flowers ! And it has had a coorious effect on
some of them, I mind when none of us cared
a doit to go into the country for a holiday, if
there weren't shows, or dancing, or something of
town carried out into the country. We thought
there was nothing to see there, nothing to amuse
us. But now some of our young folk are all agog

TWO AIMS 307

to get among the green lanes, or out on the
moors, searching after wild flowers. It has set
up a new interest in their minds. That's what you
have done."

Hector had stuck to his work in the potbank,
and had become intensely interested in it, as also,
and mainly, in the men with whom he was brought
in contact. He did not remain at his work
there altogether. He returned every now and
then to Pendabury, to attend to duties that re-
quired his presence on the estate. Joan, however,
did not abandon her post, and she despatched
such girls and others to Rosewood as, by failure
of power and an anasmic look, showed symptoms
of being attacked by the lead.

" And pray, when are you going to be married ? "
asked Polly.

"Not till next Easter," answered Joan. "That
was our compact at the outset."

" And after that, what shall you do ? "

" I shall hold to my plan, and spend the winter
months here, that is to say from Michaelmas to
Lady Day, in the same way as heretofore. You
can do without me in the summer."

" We shall have to. Where will you be married ? "

" Here, of course."

" Here ! Then who will be bridesmaids ? "

" Can you question ? You and Cissie, and
Caroline and Bessie and the rest."

3o8

THE FROBISHERS

" That will be fine. Bless my bones ! But when
you go we shall miss you."

"And do you not suppose that I shall miss
you ? "

" Ah, well," said Polly, with a sigh, " it will
be but for a while, six months, and then we shall
have our Joan back again."

"Yes, your Joan. In heart, in soul, in life I
belong to you."

" We can't do without you. You are, and ever
will be, OUR JOAN."

THE END

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